


Prompts and Drabbles

by tonystarkssnipples



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2014-08-03
Packaged: 2018-01-19 13:50:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 75
Words: 57,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1472167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonystarkssnipples/pseuds/tonystarkssnipples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of the prompts and drabbles that I post on tumblr.</p><p>Each drabble will be posted with the prompt it came with and each drabble will be posted as it's own chapter.</p><p>All are Stony.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Where Tony Throws Paper at Steve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Tony is sitting in the back of his and is bored, so he began to doodle on a piece of paper, not liking it, he wads it up and throws it at someone, this person happens to be Steve. (Who sits in the front/in front of him)

Steve felt a ball of paper bounce off the back of his head and he turned around to see Tony Stark grinning from the back row. He fought to ignore it. The teacher rarely ever turned around and even if she did, she was practically blind and wouldn’t be able to see the problem. 

A second wad of paper hit the back of his head and Steve clenched his hands into fists.  _Just say something_ , he yelled at himself.  _Don’t be a tattle, you loser,_  he argued back. He cringed as a third wad of paper hit his head. He bit down on his lip and turned back to his notes.

French was his best subject, aside from art, so it made sense that he didn’t have to pay much attention. It was horrible, he had nothing to distract him from the constant thumping at the back of his head. After three more wads of paper bounced of of his head, they stopped coming. 

Steve counted the minutes in his head, waiting for the next ball of paper to hit him, but it didn’t come. Out of curiosity, he turned around to see Tony smirking. Steve raised his eyebrows.  _What the hell?_  he mouthed.

_Open them_ , Tony mouthed back. Steve creased his eyebrows and bent over, collecting the six crumpled pieces of paper that were scattered around his desk. They were numbered in the top right corner. Steve searched for Number 1.

There was a doodle of him, hunched over his desk. It wasn’t great, but hey, not everyone was an artist. There was a little note at the bottom of the drawing.  _This one’s really fucked up. Sorry._  

The second sported a shoe.  _Please don’t kick my ass when this is over_.

The third showed a bunch of daisies.  _These are the easiest flowers to draw._

The forth was a table with a candle in the middle of it.  _Om nom nom._

The fifth was an analog clock that read.  _6:30._

The final one, number six, had two stick figures on it. One of them was a lot taller than the other and had horrendously bulbous muscles. They were both male and they were holding hands.  _Will you go out with me?_

Steve fought back a little smile. He hadn’t been asked on many  any  dates but this had to be the best proposal ever. He ripped a page out of his notebook and wrote  _on va voir_. He crumpled it up, glanced behind him, and threw it over his shoulder. Steve turned around after he saw Tony catch it.

It didn’t take long before another wad of paper was bouncing off the back of his head. He picked it up off of the floor and opened it.  _What the hell does that mean?_  Steve smirked.

_Maybe instead of throwing things at me, you should pay attention in class._


	2. Where Tony is Getting Fat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: In the 40's it was natural for people to have a fuller figure. Excess weight meant wealth. Steve finds he's even more attracted to Tony now that he's gained some weight and takes to leaving him snacks and feeding him.

Tony flopped down on the couch and put his head on Steve’s lap. Steve watched as Tony wriggled around, trying to get comfortable.“Tony?” Steve asked. Tony grunted. “What’s going on?”

“You’re making me fat—”

“I… what?”

“—and you’re doing it on purpose.” Steve stayed silent as he watched his husband act like a squirming kitten. Finally, Tony stopped moving. His chin was awkwardly digging into the side of Steve’s leg and it kind of hurt, but Steve didn’t feel like making Tony move and having to start the whole process over again.

“You’re not fat,” Steve commented, finally.

“You’re lying. You’re making me fat and you’re doing it on purpose.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you keep feeding me!”

Steve bit his lip and put his notebook to the side. “People have to eat, Tony.”

“Yeah, yeah. But you’re not just feeding me food. You’re feeding me fatty food. And putting cupcakes in the workshop. And leaving surprise cookies waiting on the counter when you go to work.” He groaned and started to roll around again.

“You don’t have to eat it.”

“Have you tasted your cooking? I would go to hell if I let it go to waste.”

“Aw baby,” Steve cooed, “You’re going to hell, anyway.” Steve leaned down to kiss Tony’s forehead, but Tony rolled over so Steve couldn’t reach.

“You’re a meanie. A meanie who’s trying to make his husband fat. I had abs before you!”

“And now you have a little Pillsbury Dough-Boy belly. Which,” Steve grabbed Tony and lifted him up, throwing one leg over him, and scooting him to the side so that Steve’s knees were resting on either side of Tony, pinning him down, “I happen to like very much.”

He wiggled his fingers above Tony’s stomach. “Don’t,” Tony warned.

“Don’t what?” Steve asked, his innocent tone contradicting the malicious look in his eyes.

“I swear to god if you tI-ICKLE me! S-s-ttt-o-pp.” Tony was smiling as he tried to wriggle away from Steve. Steve responded by lifting up Tony’s shirt. “No, no no no NO!” Tony shouted as Steve leaned down and made a raspberry on his admittedly plump belly. When Steve pulled back he was laughing. “Don’t touch my fat and laugh at me,” Tony threatened, halfheartedly.

“You’re not fat. You’re plump.”

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Tony sat up and kissed Steve, effectively ending the conversation.


	3. Where Steve Can't Reach His Suit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Steve goes back to his pre-serum form and has to stay behind on his own in the Stark Tower, as all the other avengers have shit to avenge

When Steve woke up tiny again, he thought he was going to cry. I pinched the too-tight skin stretched over too-thin bones. He pulled at every possible place to see if he was just stuck in the pesky reassuring nightmare he dealt with a lot.

He wasn’t.

This was real.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hissed when he finally looked at himself in the mirror. Was it worse now than it had been back then? Had it always hurt this much to breathe? He continued to poke at himself, groaning when he was able to stick his finger between his ribs.

“You’re alright, Rogers. It’ll be fine. It’ll go away,” He told his reflection. Neither his mirrored self or the original believed a single word of it.

He was content to stay in the room. It wouldn’t be long before he died of malnourishment. It was better than living like this. Not again. Not when he knew what it was like to  _live_. To be able to breathe. To be able to make something of himself.

It seemed as if the universe was against him, though, because as soon as he was tucked under the covers, ready to wait for his impending death, the alarms went off to signal that The Avengers were needed. “Fuck,” he repeated. He saved that word for when it was needed most. It was needed most right now.

He shuffled to his closet. There the suit was, on a hanger far above his head. He looked up at it in a way he never had to before. Frowning, he reached his arm up to try and take it down, but his arm didn’t reach. He stretched as far as he could, but he just. Couldn’t. Get it. Biting back tears, he shuffled into the common area, where the rest of the team was meeting.

“Who the hell is that?” Clint asked.

“Hey guys,” Steve mumbled, not looking up from the ground. “I think you’re going to have to take this one without me.”

“Shit, it’s Steve!”

“Yeah, it’s Steve. Go. You have stuff to avenge. I’ll be fine.”

None of his friends protested. 

Once they were all gone, he shuffled over to the floor to ceiling windows, wrapped himself in a blanket (was it always this cold?), and told JARVIS to turn the windows in to two way mirrors. From outside, all the world would see was the glare of the mid-morning sun. From the inside, Steve could watch his friends do the job he was meant to do, without him.

He didn’t realize he was crying until somebody was telling him not to. “It’s alright,” Tony said, plopping down beside Steve. He was still in the armor, sans helmet. “Shit, please stop crying.”

“I’m worthless again,” Steve mumbled. “I guess I’ll always revert back to being worthless.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Tony asked, throwing his arm around Steve in a bro hug. “You’re not worthless. We’ll fix you. And even if we don’t—which we will—we still need you. You keep us fed and you keep the house cleaned—”

“I’ll die and you can hire a maid.”

Tony’s brow furrowed. “That’s enough of that. I was trying to be nice about this but you’re gonna listen to me you little punk. You’re worth a whole lot more than some muscles. You believed that, I know you did, before you were Captain America. You  _knew_  that you were worth something, even when you thought you were going to be tiny your whole life. Just because you’re skinny again doesn’t mean that you can start a pity party of one. You’ll have to adjust for a little bit while we figure out what went wrong but—”

Steve cut him off but kissing him. It was awkward, because he had to lean over the suit and Tony couldn’t move his head all that much, but it got the message across just fine. “Thank you.”

Tony cleared his throat. “You’re welcome.”

“Why are you in here, anyway? Don’t you have—”

“Shit to avenge? Yeah, I guess. But my best friend needed me and there are other people who can hold down the fort while I’m gone.”

Steve smirked. “Are you saying that there are people out there who can do your job just as well as you can?”

“Never,” Tony insisted with a smile. “But while we’re here and they’re out there… do you wanna kiss me again?”


	4. Where They Sing "Love is an Open Door"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Steve and Tony singing "Love Is An Open Door" together after watching Frozen.

“I’m not watching it,” Tony insisted. “It’s a children's movie.”

“It won two Academy Awards and countless others. It was in theaters for five months. Just because it’s animated doesn’t mean it’s a children’s movie.”

“I’m not watching _Frozen_ on date night. We’re supposed to go out on date night.”

“Well, it’s my turn to choose what we do on date night _and_ it’s my turn to pick the movie on movie night.”

“But it’s not movie night! You can’t fuck with the schedule, Steve.”

“Listen here you little shit. We’re watching the movie and you don’t have a choice.”

Tony groaned and tucked his feet under himself, leaning into Steve. “You owe me.” Steve grabbed the remote and hit _play_. Tony grumbled about not even asking before Steve made the decision to _queue up_ _the dvd_ , but he decided to ignore it because complaining would do nothing.

* * *

“Was it horrible?” Steve asked when the credits started to roll.

“It wasn’t _horrible_ ,” Tony conceded.

“You loved it. Don’t lie.”

“I didn’t hate it, okay?”

Steve smiled. “I know that’s the closest you’ll get to admitting you were wrong, so I’ll take it.” Steve pressed a chaste kiss to Tony’s forehead. “C’mon. Time for bed.”

Tony shook his head and pressed his face into Steve’s shoulder. “Too tired.”

“To go to bed?”

“Carry me.”

“No”

“Yes.”

“If I carry you, will you say the words ‘Steve my dearest darling, I was wrong’?”

Tony leaned back and glared at Steve. Without a word, he stood and shuffled off to their room. Steve smiled and followed him, pulling Tony close once they were side by side.

* * *

The first time Steve heard Tony humming  _Love Is an Open Door_ , he decided to ignore it. He knew Tony would be embarrassed if he found out that Steve had heard. Just because he didn’t say anything didn’t stop him from listening with a dopey smile on his face.

After that, it became a reoccurrence. Tony hummed the song when he was making coffee, in his workshop, showering. Sometimes he sang some of the words, other times not. Tony never sang/hummed/ _performed_ any of the other songs. It was never _The First Time In Forever_ or _Let It Go_. It was always finishing sandwiches and chocolate fondue and mental synchronization.

It got to the point where Steve couldn’t take it anymore. Tony was hunched over some blue prints, humming to himself. Steve crept up behind him and rested his chin on Tony’s shoulder. “ _All my life has been a series of doors in my face, and then suddenly I bump into you,_ ” he whispered into Tony’s ear.

Tony turned around in his swivel chair to face Steve. “ _I was thinking the same thing ‘cause, like, I’ve been searching my whole life to find my own place and maybe it’s the party talking, or the chocolate fondue._ ”

Steve kissed his nose. “ _But with you,_ ”

“ _But with you I found my place…_ ”

“ _I see your face_.”

Steve kissed Tony’s lips. “ _And it’s nothing like I’ve ever known before. Love is an open door_.” They sang together.

“I was wondering when you were going to join my little attempted sing along. It’s been three weeks.”

Steve wasn’t sure how to answer that. “You were trying to get me to sing with you? Why didn’t you just ask?”

“Because then it wouldn’t be spontaneous and fun.” Tony fumbled around in his pocket for a minute. Then, with his hand still hidden from sight, he looked Steve dead in the eye. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“So, uh… can I say something crazy?” Tony asked and it was the closest Steve had ever come to seeing Tony nervous. Steve’s heart was pounding in his chest because if this was going where he thought it was going… he nodded. “Will you marry me?” Tony pulled his hand out of his pocket and showed Steve a simple gold band.

“Promise you’re not some psycho jerk who wants to take over my kingdom and leave me for dead?”

“It’s already my kingdom, so no. That won’t be happening. Steve… I was a fixer upper and the only fixer upper fixer that can fix a fixer upper is true love.” He kissed Steve. “I, uh, may have bought the soundtrack.”

Steve grinned from ear to ear. “Well then can I say something crazier?” He guided Tony’s hand so that the ring went smoothly onto Steve’s finger. “Yes.”


	5. Where Tony Has a Bad Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: "Pull me in close and don't let me go. Make love to me." Tony is having a very bad day and wants nothing more than Steve making love to him.

Tony sat at the island in the kitchen, staring at an empty coffee mug. Steve had been standing in the doorway for at least a minute and he hadn’t seen his partner move once. Tony just looked so… sad. Defeated. Alone.

“Baby?” Steve asked, hesitantly. Tony looked up, his eyes glazed over. “Baby, what’s wrong?” Tony licked his lips and inhaled deeply. Just as he was about to open his mouth, Steve interrupted him. “Please don’t tell me that you’re fine.”

Tony seemed to deflate like a balloon. Steve rushed to him and wrapped his arms around the smaller man, pulling him as close to his body as he could. “It’s just… this day.” Tony mumbled into Steve’s shirt. “Every year. This one day.”

Steve sat down on the stool next to Tony so that he could look him in the eye. Holding Tony’s face between his hands gently. “What’s today?” he asked. Tony looked down, unable to meet Steve’s eyes. Steve used his thumb to wipe away a stray tear that was rolling down Tony’s cheek. “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Tony sighed. “Today’s the day my parents died. And… I hate that I feel this way, which makes me feel even worse. And…” Tony took a shaky breath. “It would be so much easier if I hated them. But I don’t. I could never bring myself to hate them. I always wanted to do something that would make them proud. And I never got a chance to. I never even got to say goodbye.”

Steve pulled Tony close and started to rock them back and forth. Tony let his arms hang limp by his sides, having no energy to reciprocate the hug. “I love you,” Tony murmured into Steve’s chest. “Thank you.”

“I love you, too.” Steve pulled away and kissed Tony’s temple. “Is there anything I can do?”

Tony sighed. “I used to fuck the pain away—”

“Do you want me—”

“No, please. It never worked. Can you just… pull me in close and don’t let me go? Make love to me, Steve. Don’t fuck me.”

“Of course, baby. If that’s what you want.” Tony nodded weakly. Steve gathered Tony in his arms, lifting him up and carrying him to their room. Tony hung limply in his arms and Steve’s heart broke. He laid him gently on the bed and Tony smiled up at him, his eyes empty.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” It was reflex. He didn’t have to think about it for a second. He loved Tony so much.

He pulled Tony’s ratty tshirt over his head, running his hands across Tony’s body. Tony gave him another sad smile and Steve couldn’t take it anymore. He leaned down and kissed Tony so he had an excuse to close his eyes and not have to look at the sad, beautiful man laying under him.

Steve wasn’t sure how long they kissed, but he had lost himself in his lover so immensely, he hadn’t even realized they had taken their clothes off. Tony got up and crossed the room to his dresser, pulling out a new bottle of lube. When he got back on the bed, Steve grabbed the bottle from him and slicked his fingers.

Tony closed his eyes and laid still as Steve prepared him. He started to feel uncomfortable; Tony didn’t seem to be enjoying it. He stopped moving his hand, only to see Tony’s eyes open. “Why’d you stop?”

“You look miserable.”

“I am miserable. You’re helping, though. A lot. Please keep going.” Steve did as he was asked. After a few more moments, Tony started to move, slowly rocking against Steve’s fingers. Tony’s eyes shot open as Steve brushed against his prostate. “Thank you for that.”

Steve smirked. “My pleasure,” he responded, rubbing against the spot again.

“No, my pleasure.” Tony began to squirm. “Please, baby. Please make love to me.”

Steve pulled his hand out and squirted more of the gel onto his hand, slicking up his cock. “Are you ready?” he asked, positioning himself. Tony nodded in response.

Just like Tony had asked, Steve moved slowly. It wasn’t until Tony gave him the  _okay_  that he started moving more quickly. It wasn’t long before Tony was biting at Steve’s ear. “I need you to come inside me.”

Steve’s breath hitched as he came. He reached between them and started to stroke Tony’s dick and it wasn’t long before he was spilling his load in between them. They lay together for a moment, panting, before Steve pulled out and laid next to Tony.

“Are you feeling any better.”

“Sort of. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Is there anything else I can do?”

“Hold me until I fall asleep.”

“Anything, baby. I love you.”

Tony was already half asleep, but Steve didn’t miss the mumbled “I love you, too.”


	6. Where It's Girls' Night In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Tony walking in on Natasha and Steve painting their nails together. Everyone stops and stares at each other for all of two seconds, then Tony walks out and Steve and Natasha think they scared him off but Tony comes back in with his own supplies and sits down to join them. They have girly time together.

“That feels weird,” Steve grumbled as Natasha slipped the toe dividers onto his feet. She just smirked and grabbed the pumice stone, rubbing it along the bottom of his foot. “I can’t tell if that tickles or hurts.”

“Well, maybe if you took care of your feet at least once in the past 95 years, it wouldn’t be like this.” She rubbed the stone against the dead skin of his foot, trying to force it off. “Hold still,” she hissed as Steve kicked his foot around. After the events with the Winter Soldier—Bucky, as Steve insisted they call him, because he knew is friend was in there somewhere—Natasha and Steve had become close. Close enough, it seemed, to have Girls’ Night In.

“Giving up already?” he asked when she put the stone down.

“Yes. I don’t feel like fighting with your wriggling foot and I don’t trust myself enough not to snap your ankle. Give me the lotion.” She held out her hand and Steve passed her the bottle of fruity smelling lotion. Steve calmed down enough for her to rub the lotion into his foot and grab the bottle of under coat nail polish.

“Polish?” he asked, cringing.

“Clear coat. It just helps strengthen the nails. Calm down, stop squirming.” She began to spread the polish on his big toe. They were silent as she quickly added polish to both feet. “So, you asked Sharon out yet?”

Steve used the hand he wasn’t propping himself up with to scratch the back of his head. “Uh… no.”

Natasha groaned. “Why?”

Steve rubbed his hand over his face, pressing his palm into his eye. “Because there’s someone else.”

Natasha stopped what she was doing and looked up at Steve. “Who?”

They shifted so that Steve could offer her his hand. He grabbed a pillow with his free one and held onto it. “Tony.” He was surprised how easy it was to tell Natasha. He had been panicked about it ever since he realized that Tony meant more to him than just a friend. He wasn’t sure how to come out about it, but he was happy to find that he trusted Natasha enough to just tell her.

“So… that’s you’re, um, type. You know… down south…” She winked.

“I have no preference,” he admitted. Not only was it the first time he had said it out loud, but it was also the first time he had said it to himself.

“That’s cool. Accepting love from wherever it comes from.”

“Yeah. I never really looked at it that way.”

“So Tony… is he your Dr. Dreamy?” she asked, spreading the polish onto his hand.

Steve sighed. “So dreamy. And don’t think I don’t know what you’re talking about. Patrick Dempsey doesn’t even come close.”

There was a genuine smile on Natasha’s face. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“So what about Clint?” Her gaze shifted from his hand to his face.

“What about him?”

“I noticed the necklace. The arrow. It’s from him, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“You don’t have to tell me about it, if you don’t want.”

“No,” she said. “I kind of wanted you to mention it.”

“So, how’s it going?”

“It’s going great. We haven’t seen or talked to each other in awhile. We’re both laying low because of, you know, the Fall and everything. But… before that. It’s great. I think I love him.”

Steve used his free arm to touch her shoulder. “I’m so happy for you.” She gave him the tiniest smile, but it spoke volumes to Steve. This woman trusted him. And he trusted her. He was about to open his mouth in an attempt to switch the topic back to Tony and the hopeful  _wooing_  of the billionaire, when out of the corner of his eye, Steve spotted Tony standing in the doorway.

Natasha whipped her head around. “Hey Stark,” she greeted.

“Ladies.” He tipped an imaginary hat before retreating.

“Perfect,” Steve groaned. “I scared him off!”

“It’ll be fine. By tomorrow he’ll have forgotten all about this.”

“How much do you want to bet he has JAVIS taking pictures of us right now.”

“A lot of money, because I am,” Tony admitted, coming into the room. He was carrying a bowl. “But that’s only because I want to always remember Girls’ Night In.”

“What do you have there?” Natasha asked.

“Face masks. Avocado.” He turned to Steve. “You first, young man.”

Steve cringed as Tony dipped his hand into the green goo. “No, really, it’s okay. You don’t have to.”

“Shut up. It’ll feel good. I promise. Close your eyes.” Steve did as he was told and allowed Tony to smother his face with the avocado. It smelled awful, but Tony was right about it feeling good. He hummed in content. “Told you.” Steve could  _hear_  the smirk in Tony’s voice.

Steve’s eyes were still closed when he heard Natasha and Tony sniggering. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” they said at the same time.

“That sounds like a lot of something. What? Do you have something on my face?” All three burst out laughing.

“Look at your hands,” Tony gasped. Steve peeked his eyes open to see that his nails weren’t the promised clear coat. They were the most obnoxious color he had ever seen. “It’s puce!” Tony announced.

“It’s puke! Oh, it’s so ugly.”

“That’s my favorite shade,” Natasha defended. Her face was unreadable and Steve couldn’t tell if she was lying or not.

“Sorry?”

Natasha and Tony just started laughing again. The three made idle chatter while Steve’s nails dried. Once he was able to use his hands again, he pulled the bowl of green goo towards himself. “Okay Tony, your turn.”

“You just wanna touch Dr. Dreamy’s face, don’t you?” Tony asked. Steve felt the blood drain from his face. “It’s okay. I’ll happily be your Meredith.” Steve’s smile was so wide he felt his face mask starting to crack.

“This just got weird,” Natasha commented, popping a chip into her mouth. “Really, really weird.”


	7. Where Peter Wins the Easter Egg Hunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Easter at the tower

“EASTUHHHHH!” Peter shouted as he burst into his fathers’ room. He took a flying leap into their bed, landing with his knee directly in Tony’s groin.

“Jesus!” he shouted, sitting up instantly and curling in on himself. Steve gently picked their son off of his husband and moved him to the side.

“Sowwie,” the toothless five year old mumbled. Tony rolled over stiffly. Peter crawled onto Steve’s chest and started bouncing up and down. “Eastuh! Eastuh! Eastuh! Eastuh!”

“Yes, it’s Easter. Did the Easter Bunny come?” Steve asked. Peter nodded, his head bouncing as if it were on a spring. “Do you think he hid some eggs?”

Peter’s eyes widened. “Did he?” he gasped.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you go outside and look around. But not too hard, because if the Easter Bunny did come, you have to wait until everyone else is awake so we can have an egg hunt, okay?” Steve, always the responsible parent. Peter nodded eagerly and dashed out of the room. Once he was gone, Steve turned back to Tony. “Our son has your energy.”

“On days where he kicks me in the balls, he’s your son.”

* * *

The Avengers, as well as some guests, were standing in a circle, easter baskets decorated to look like their faces tucked under their arms.  They were paired into teams. Steve and Sam, Clint and Natasha (a team that Tony said was vastly unfair, but Natasha threatened to kick him in the nuts and he’d had enough of that for one day), Bruce and Pepper, Thor and Jane, Darcy and Coulson, and Peter and Tony.

Tony turned to the group. “So here’s the rules. You have to look at eggs at your own height, meaning Thor and Steve, no looking under stuff. No powers or weapons, this is good clean fun. No stealing. If someone is going for an egg you cannot take it before they can get to it.” Tony was about to tell everyone to go, but he caught Steve mouthing  _Have Fun_. Tony rolled his eyes. “And lastly, have fun. Go go go!” He shouted and everyone dispersed.

* * *

Not surprisingly, Tony and Peter won. It may or may not have been rigged for his height and preferred locations in the tower, and Tony may or may not have been the person to hide the eggs. Once everyone was back together, counting up their eggs, Peter noticed this pile was vastly larger than the rest of the team’s. “What do I win? What do I win?”

“The pride of a job well done isn’t enough?” Steve asked, coming to stand by Tony. He wrapped his arm around his husband’s waist. “Because that’s the best prize of all.”

“Daddy?” Peter’s nose crinkled up.

“He’s just kidding, Pete,” Tony chuckled, glaring at his husband. “The prize is right around the corner.”

As they walked, Steve leaned down to whisper in his ear. “What the hell did you get him?”

“You’ll see,” Tony whispered. When they turned the corner, everyone froze.

“You always did have a weak spot for those,” Pepper muttered. Peter ran towards the nine-foot-tall Easter Bunny and started trying to climb up it. He’d get six inches off the ground before tumbling back onto his butt.

“He’s going to get hurt,” Steve muttered.

“No he’s not,” Tony insisted. 

Thor got behind Peter and started helping him try to climb up the bunny. Every time the child slipped, Thor would catch him and put him back on his feet to try again. 

“We’ve got to stop treating Easter like Christmas,” Steve whispered to Tony, lacing their fingers together.

“What’s the fun in that?”

“The joy of a long awaited surprise?”

Tony crinkled up his nose. “Really?”

“You know that’s the exact same face Peter made not five minutes ago. He  _is_  your son.”

“I told you, on days where he kicks me in the balls, he’s your son.”


	8. Where There's a "Freaky Gene Baby"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Tony wants to have a kid with Steve, but that not being possible, he asks Banner for help - he wants help creating a baby out of their genomes in the lab.

Every morning that Tony woke up next to Steve, he considered it to be a good morning. A good way to start the rest of his day. The perfect beginning. It wasn’t often that he was awake before Steve, but when he was, he’d lie there, tucked in his lover’s shirt, and watch him. The simple inhale and exhale of the perfect man with the perfect heart.

His only regret was that he was keeping the world from having another Steve Rogers. Him with his lack of uterus and ovaries, but with he ring on his finger. Tony never thought having children would be a problem for him. He never even thought he would get married and, even if he did, he would marry someone who wasn’t interested in children. The world didn’t need another Tony Stark; it barely knew what to do with the first one. So for awhile, the prospect of being with a man was ever so appealing, until he realized he was doing the world a disservice.

“What’re you thinking about so hard?” Steve asked. Tony startled; he hadn’t realized Steve was awake.

“Nothing. Algorithms.”

“In your head?” Steve asked, skeptically.

“Genius,” he replied, pointing to himself. Steve rolled his eyes and rolled over, wrestling Tony to the bed, attacking his face with kisses. “Ah!”

Steve pulled back. “I love you.”

Tony had to take a moment because there was nothing he had ever seen in the entire world that compared to Steve hovering above him, looking into his eyes like he was right then. “I fucking love you so much.”

* * *

“Brucy-bear!” Tony shouted, bursting into Bruce’s lab. “How  _is_  my favorite golly green giant?”

“What do you want, Tony?” Bruce asked, pulling his glasses from his face to rest them on the table in front of him. Tony hopped onto that very table, narrowly missing the glasses. 

“I need to  _want_  something to visit?” Tony asked, grabbing at his chest. “I’m offended.”

“You don’t  _need_  to want something, but it seems that the only times you come to visit me are  _when_  you need something, which brings us back to what do you want?”

Tony picked up a stress ball that was on the corner of the desk and started throwing it back and forth between his hands. “This is going to sound… weird.”

“How  _weird_.”

“You need to make it so two guys can have a baby. Now hold up before you say anything! I’ve thought this through. See, all you have to do is figure out how to turn sperm into an egg and voila! We find a surrogate and—”

“You’re actually serious about this, aren’t you?” Bruce interrupted, cutting off Tony’s growing excitement. “You actually want me to try and figure this out.”

“Yes,” Tony admitted, dropping down from the desk. “The world needs another Steve Rogers and the only thing keeping that from happening is me.”

“Have you talking to  _him_  about this crazy idea, yet?”

“No. Because I know he wants kids, but he never brings it up because he thinks I’ll say no. I don’t want to get his hopes up if this can’t work.”

Bruce pressed his palms to his eyes, pushing as it if was the only thing keeping his brain from leaking out. He sighed. “I’ll see what I can do. I’m going to need a sperm sample from you both.” Tony jumped up and enthusiastically held his hand up for a high five. Bruce met him half heartedly.

Tony engulfed him in a hug. “You know you’re the greatest friend in the world, right?” He grabbed a cup and sprinted out of the room.

“Hey, Tony!” Bruce shouted. Tony poked his head back in through the door. “Please don’t be too disappointed if this doesn’t work out. It’s not exactly… probable.”

“Aw, Brucey. I have confidence in you.”

* * *

“You want me to do what?” Steve asked when Tony held the cup out to him.

“Jizz into the cup. For science!” Tony exclaimed.

“What kind of science?” Steve asked. “You sure this isn’t some sort of weird kink for you?”

“Steve, if it was a weird kink, you would have known about it years ago. No, it’s not a kink. Bruce just wants to take a closer look at the Super Soldier Serum.”

“Blood?”

“They’ve already tried that. If you want,” Tony purred, grabbing Steve’s crotch, “I can help you out.”

* * *

Tony spent the next weeks in Bruce’s lab. Tony explained that he wasn’t  _hovering_  but that he was taking  _extreme qualitative interest_  in the experiment. In all honesty, Tony didn’t know shit about biochem and didn’t like that he couldn’t help more.

After two months, six days, and 8 hours (Tony was  _not_  counting) Bruce announced that he had done it. He was going to need another sperm sample (Tony was more than happy to oblige) and that they were going to have to find a surrogate.

“So when are you going to break the news to Steve?”

“When the baby is coming out.”

“ _No_. No Tony, I am  _not_  letting you blindside your husband into having a child. What are you going to do? Walk up to him and say ‘that sperm sample you gave me was used to create a genetically altered child that is biologically connected to both of us’?”

“Something like that. I have a better way with words, but you’ve got the gist.”

“No.”

“But Bruce—”

“I will not go through with this until I have a living, breathing Steve Rogers standing in front of me, telling me I can do this. And don’t go looking for a surrogate until then, okay?”

Tony groaned. “ _Fiiiiiiine_.”

* * *

“So, Steven,” Tony sighed, collapsing on the couch next to his husband.

“So, Anthony.”

“Ug, don’t call me that.” He threw his feet on Steve’s lap. “Have you given any thought to having a kid, you and me?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Too many dude parts, Tony.”

“In theory. Would you be interested in raising a child with me?”

Steve’s face was blank and Tony went stiff with panic. He thought this was such a Steve thing. Steve was the one who brought up kids in the beginning, wasn’t he? Was he? Had Tony imagined it? Had it been Tony all along who wanted kids? He started to close in on himself, forcing himself not to  _freak the fuck out_.

“Steve?” He fought to keep his voice steady.

“Well… yeah, sure. In theory, I would love to raise a child with you. Are you suggesting we adopt?”

Tony sprung up from his reclined position. He was cross legged and as close to Steve as humanly possible without actually touching him. “What if I can one up that?” he grabbed Steve’s arm. “What if I can tell you that we can have a child that is biologically related to both of us?”

“I’d say that’s one, you’re insane. Two, that’s creepy. And three, you’ve piqued my interest: how?”

Tony started bouncing a little. “The sperm sample from all that time ago? And, you know, all the ones since then? Well, Bruce and I—mainly Bruce—have been working on turning the male reproductive gene into that of a female. We were successful. All we need is a surrogate and we can have a child that is biologically related to both Steve Rogers and Tony Stark and it will be the most  _badass_  baby in the _history_  of the fucking  _world_.” Steve’s face was unreadable. He looked at Tony as if he had sported a second head or a third eye or something stupid like that. “What?” Tony asked, his enthusiasm draining.

“Well… why didn’t you talk to me about this before?”

“I wanted to make sure it was possible before you got your hopes up.”

“Kids… they’re great. I love ‘em. But are you sure you want to have one? A baby turns into a toddler turns into a child turns into a teenager. We’ll be responsible for another human life. Our lives aren’t even reliable. What happens if we have this freaky gene baby and then one of us gets hurt or killed? What do we do?”

“Freaky gene baby?” This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. Steve was supposed to be excited. He was supposed to want this. Steve was supposed to sweep him up in his arms and twirl them around. They were supposed to have ‘we’re going to be daddies soon’ sex. Steve was supposed to be happy.

Steve wasn’t happy.

“What you’re proposing is kind of freaky, yeah.”

“I just,” Tony looked away. “You’re so good with kids. I thought you would want one.”

“ _Other people’s_  kids. I don’t know if I’d be a good father.”

“You’d be the best father. What is wrong? Is it me? Won’t I be a good father?”

“Tony, no, that’s not what I’m saying—”

“Oh my god. That is what you mean. You don’t think I have what it takes to be a father.” Steve shook his head ‘no’ but the look on his face said more than enough. “I can’t believe you.”

Steve leaned his head back and groaned. “Tony—”

“I have to go.”

“Tony, please wait.”

“Steve, I… I need to be alone.”


	9. Where There's a "Freaky Gene Baby" Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Could you write a sequel of your stony drabble? I mean the one which Tony asks Bruce to make a baby with both Stark and Roger genes.

“It’s not that I think he’ll make a  _bad_  father, Nat, I just—”

“The fact that you just said it like that means that you  _do_  think he’ll be a bad father. I understand your concerns, but Steve… you know him better than anyone and I don’t understand how you can’t see that this is something he really wants. Something he’s ready for.”

“Why are you always right?”

“I’m not. But this time I am.

* * *

“It’s not that I think he’ll make a  _bad_  father, Bruce, I just—”

“No. Stop. That man, your husband, my friend, came bursting down here, excited as all hell for me to try this. I wouldn’t have spent months on the project if I thought he was going to back out. I wouldn’t have invested my time in something that would be ignored.”

“Why is everyone ganging up on me?”

“Maybe it’s because you’re wrong.”

* * *

“It’s not that I think he’ll make a  _bad_  father, Clint, I just—”

“You’re an asshole.”

“You’re not going to tell me why?”

“Oh, you know why.”

* * *

“Tony?” Steve asked, hesitantly stepping into the workshop. Tony wielded a blow torch, welding gloves, and safety goggles. His arms were bare, something that always worried Steve.  _Scars are just signs that you’re living._  Tony continued what he was doing. Steve tried to make himself believe it was because Tony couldn’t hear him, but he knew differently. JARVIS had to have alerted Tony before Steve entered the room.

So that meant Tony was ignoring him on purpose.

Perfect.

“I guess I’ll just talk because I know you’re listening to me, even though you’re pretending you’re not. I was wrong. I was really wrong. And I’ve gone to all of our friends searching for them to tell me that I was justified, but they all said the same thing. I’m an ass.” Tony grunted, confirming what Steve already knew; Tony was listening. “I would like to talk about it again. More detail. Weigh the pros and cons.”

“Of the freaky gene baby?” Tony’s voice was bitter as he put down the blow torch and removed the safety goggles.

“Not my best choice of words, I’ll admit.”

“Very poor choice of words, I would say. Look, Steve,” Tony threw the gloves on the table, “I get it. I’m a fuck up. I’ve always been a fuck up. I thought that being with you would change that. Uh… I’m bad with feelings.”

“I know. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I should be… I should be able to tell you how I feel. I shouldn’t have run away like that.”

“I understand why you did.”

Tony ran his hands up and down his arms, shivering. “I know that I might not be the best father right off the bat, but that’s why I have  _you_. To clean up my messes. And I’d never, ever, in one thousand and one years, bail. You’re my life now.” Tony’s whole body deflated when he exhaled. “I wanna be a daddy with you, Steve.”

Steve pulled Tony into his arms. “Okay.”

“Okay, okay? Or  _okay_ , okay?”

“Okay we’ll do it.”

“Okay.”


	10. Where They Make Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Tony suggests baking a cake on lazy sunday, Steve freaks out over using cake mix because he's never heard of it and he thinks it's lazy.

“I’m not putting on pants today,” Tony announced as he unmounted Steve. He collapsed beside his still panting lover. “Whaddya say?”

“You want to have sex all day?” Steve asked, turning his head to face Tony.

“Nah. Good morning sex, maybe some afternoon sex, goodnight sex… that’s all well and good—”

“And we already took care of one.”

“Yes, yes we did. No, I’m proposing Lazy Sunday. You in?”

“Uh… sure?”

Tony grinned widely. “Okay! Get dressed. But no pants!”

“No pants,” Steve agreed.

They stumbled out of Tony’s room looking raggedy as ever. Tony was in one of Steve’s shirts, which hung down halfway to his knees. Only the very edge of the American-Flag boxers he was wearing peeked out from under the hem of the shirt (dress). Steve was wearing his biggest shirt, but that just meant that it didn’t flaunt every curve of his body. He was wearing red and yellow Iron Man boxers. They were both in socks.

It was disgustingly couple-y.

“Ugh,” Clint groaned when they walked into the kitchen. “You guys think that buying each others’ merchandise is cute, but really it’s just creepy.”

“I think it’s cute,” Natasha said, slapping Clint’s feet off of the counter. He put them back up as soon as she looked away. 

“Is this how it’s going to be now? You’re always going to be taking  _his_  side?” Clint asked. “Jesus, I leave you two alone for five minutes—”

“And we bring down a government agency and become the best of pals while doing it,” Natasha and Steve droned in unison. They had heard it from Clint a hundred times.

“Anyway,” Tony interrupted before they got into  _this_  again. “Steve and I are going to be baking a cake today—”

“We are?”

“—and we’re going to need the kitchen to ourselves. So you two… scram!”

Clint, moving as slowly as he could, took his feet off of the counter, grabbed his mug of coffee, and left the room.

Tony heaved a sigh as soon as they were gone and went to the cabinet. Steve followed him and started pulling down ingredients. Salt, sugar, flour… “What is that?” Steve asked.

“Cake?” Tony answered, ripping the box of Betty Crocker cake mix open. “What are you doing?”

“Getting the ingredients for cake.”

“Water and eggs you dumb ass. And, well, this.” He dumped the multi-colored powder mix into a bowl. “Oo, FunFetti.”

“What the hell is ‘this’?” Steve demanded, grabbing the box out of Tony’s hands. “This is laziness is what this is! Are you  _kidding_  me? If you want to spend a Lazy Sunday baking a cake, you bake a damn cake.”

“Well this is the lazy way to do the cake thing on Lazy Sunday, so I’m right.”

“No, you’re not, Tony. Get your head out of your ass. We’re baking a real cake.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No!”

“ _Yes!_ ”

“Shut up,” Tony demanded, pulling down on Steve’s shirt and smashing their lips together. When Tony shoved his tongue in Steve’s mouth, Steve slammed his hand down on the kitchen table, successfully cracking the granite and spilling the bowl of cake mix onto the floor. 

“Oh, fuck,” Steve grumbled, turning toward the mess.

“Okay,” Tony whispered, kissing along Steve’s jaw. Steve turned back to Tony and kissed him again, this time harder than before. They slowly backed themselves onto the floor, Tony mounting Steve while kissing him hungrily. Steve moaned into Tony’s mouth.

“You two have a bedroom for a reason, you know,” Natasha accused, standing above them.

“You do, too. It’s so you go in it and stay the hell out of my kitchen.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and left. “She’s right. We shouldn’t do this here.” Steve muttered.

“We shouldn’t, but we’re going to.”


	11. Where Tony Tries to Be From "Back to the Future"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Steve gets jealous of Tony and Bruce being science bros. Tony leaves their place for hours and hours every day, not letting Steve know where he is. Natasha finally notice's Steve's frustration and casually tells him what's going on - Bruce and Tony are working on a food hydrator like the one from Back to the Future.

Tony started to get out of bed, but Steve grabbed his shirt and pulled him back down. “Don’t go,” Steve murmured, lazily kissing Tony.

“I gotta go,” Tony responded. Steve frowned. Tony sounded more awake this morning than he had in weeks.

“Where?”

“Can’t tell you.” 

Steve let go, trying not to feel disappointed. Tony had been doing this a lot lately. Ditching him at random points in the day to run off somewhere. There were times when he thought that Tony might be having an affair, but then Tony would curl up against him while they were falling asleep and Steve forced himself to banish those thoughts. It was harder to do so when he ran out of bed in the morning.

Tony was hopping around, trying to put on a pair of jeans. “When’s the last time you looked in that notebook of yours?” Tony asked, narrowly missing a lamp.

“A couple of days, why?”

“I put in some stuff for you to take a look at.”

“Oh, uh… thanks.”

“Something for you to do while I’m gone.” Tony kissed Steve’s cheek and ran out of the room. Steve rolled over and grabbed his notebook off his bedside table, where it had laid untouched for nearly a week. He flipped through the pages until he found Tony’s new entry

_Back to the Future_. That was that? A new thing for him to check out. “JARVIS?”

“ _Yes Captain_?”

“What’s Back to the Future?”

“ _Back to the Future is a three film trilogy. The first installment premiered in 1985 and the third and final in 1990. The films star Michael J. Fox, Christopher Llyod, Lea Thompson, and Thomas F. Wilson._ ” Those names meant nothing to Steve, but he listened on, anyway. “ _Would you be interested in watching the films while sir is out today?_ ”

Steve sighed. “Sure. Queue it up in the common room. I’m sure someone will filter in at some point and watch it with me.”

“ _As you wish_.”

* * *

Steve ended up marathoning all three movies. As expected, as the day went on, people filtered in and out, watching bits and pieces of the movie before leaving again. Steve didn’t understand how they were able to do that—weren’t they interested in the story?—before he realized that they had all probably seen the movies multiple times before.

Steve found the second one especially interesting, even though Clint said it “blew ass”. Steve related to it, thought, because when he had first been unfrozen, he had expecting things like this to be around. Flying cars and retinal scans on everything. The movie got some things right, but not enough to be “legit”. He understood where the movie creators were coming from.

One thing he found particularly interesting was the food hydrator. It seemed like such a wonderful—and impossible—idea. He thought about how useful it would be in the army. He stopped himself because it was a  _movie_  and a  _fictional machine_.

He found that he liked the third one the best, even though Clint said Steve was being disloyal to the sacred being that was the  _Back to the Future_  trilogy. Apparently the rules stated that you were supposed to like the first one the best. Steve was never really one to follow the rules.

It wasn’t until he was going into the kitchen to grab himself some dinner that he realized Clint had watched all three movies with him. He didn’t spend enough time with Clint.

Probably because he said things “blew ass”.

After dinner, Steve felt lethargic, so he made his way down to the gym and worked out for a couple of hours. Okay, maybe more than a couple. When he was done it was after one in the morning. Tony should be surfacing soon. He ran up to their room and took a quick shower. He heard Tony come into the room.

“Steve?”

“In here!” Steve shouted as he turned off the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist.

“Aw, you’re finished!”

“Not tonight, Tony. It’s late.”

“Are you mad at me?” Tony asked. Steve frowned. “You’re mad at me. What did I do?”

“Nothing,” Steve grumbled, pushing past him to the closet to get some clothes. He knew he was being irrational. He hadn’t been angry at Tony all day, but then he saw him after he had been gone, and he couldn’t help but wonder what he had done wrong to push Tony so far away that he couldn’t be bothered to spend at least some part of the day together. And then Tony came into the room asking for sex…

Tony had done nothing wrong and Steve was fuming.

“What did I do?” Tony repeated, following Steve into the closet.

“Nothing. Can we just go to sleep? I’m tired.”

“Um… okay.”

They slept on opposite sides of the bed. Well, Tony slept. Steve stayed up half the night yelling at himself for being such an asshole.

* * *

“What’s wrong. Tell Auntie Natasha.”

Steve was brooding on the couch. It had been two weeks since the fight and he and Tony hadn’t made up yet. Tony tried but Steve kept pushing him away. As the days went on, it started to seem more and more probable that Tony was having an affair. It killed Steve.  _Killed_  him.

“Nothing.”

“Cut the crap and tell me what’s wrong with you.”

“I think Tony’s having an affair,” he admitted. It was the first time he had said it out loud and it  _hurt_  that it was in the universe. Made it seem more real, somehow _._ “He’s gone for hours on end but he’s not in his lab and—are you laughing?”

“That man is not cheating on you. If you can’t see that he’s head over heels in love with you, there must be something wrong in that super soldier brain of yours. Why don’t you go down to Bruce’s lab.”

“Bruce?”

“Yeah, remember Bruce? He’s never around either.”

“Do you think—”

“ _No_. Tony and Bruce are not sleeping together.”

* * *

“It shouldn’t be that hard,” Tony grumbled, crinkling up a piece of paper and throwing it behind himself. “The idea was conceived 25 years ago.”

“ _Conceived_ , yes, but your father proposed flying cars and we don’t have those yet,” Bruce retorted.

“I’m going to ignore you comparing me to my father.”

“No you’re not. I’m going to pay for it, I know I am.”

“Yes, you are. But let’s get back to this.”

Steve felt a pang of jealousy at their banter, but forced it down. Natasha had assured him that there was nothing going on between the two and he was determined to believe her. “Hi.” He used the one syllable greeting to announce his presence. 

Tony looked up. “What are you doing here?” he asked. Steve’s eyebrows shot up and he turned to leave. “No, wait! I didn’t mean it like that. Just… how did you find me? No, wait, that was wrong, too. Ugh, okay. What’s up?”

“Not much. Is this where you’ve been disappearing to every day?”

“Yes,” Tony muttered.

“Why?”

“Because we’re trying to build a food hydrator like the one in  _Back to the Future._ ”

What? “What?” Why? “Why?”

“You know. Reasons. Always wanted one. Found out Bruce did, too, so.” Tony shrugged.

“So… have you figured it out?”

“No.”

“I thought you were cheating on me. Why didn’t you just say you were down here?”

“You thought I was cheating on you?”

“Well…” Steve blushed. He felt bad because he should have known that Tony would never do that. “Please don’t be mad. It’s just that you were gone all the time and you wouldn’t tell me where you were and you’d leave first thing in the morning and then… I don’t know.”

“I’d be mad at you but you’re right.”

Steve kissed him for the first time in two weeks. God, he had missed Tony. He was such an idiot. “I’m an idiot.”

“Yes, you are, but I love you.”

“I love you, too.”


	12. Where Tony is Screwed... Literally

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: I know it's a dumb, overused prompt, but could you write mindless cuddles? Maybe the first time Steve let's Tony hold him?

The problem with Friends With Benefits is that one person always ends up developing feelings, and that just makes things messy. Tony just never thought he would be the one to get attached. 

It didn’t help that sex with Steve was great.

Really great.

What the fuck great.

Tony was screwed. 

Literally.

Because of his unfortunate infatuation, he normally high tailed it out of bed as soon as they were done. No pillow talk, no touching, barely even a goodbye. Fuck and run. Then he’d spend the following hours telling himself that he couldn’t do this anymore; that he was just going to end up even more broken hearted than before.

It wasn’t long before he was falling into bed with Steve again. 

Tony was lying on his back, watching the fan rotate above him. He knew that any minute there was going to be a text from Steve. He knew that he would tell Steve that he was coming now. He knew that he would sleep with Steve. He knew he would run away. He knew he’d end up back here, lying on his back, trying to figure out where exactly he had gone wrong.

_Can you come up tonight?_

Tony stared at his phone. He typed in  _no_ , but his finger hovered over the “send” button. Was that what he wanted? Did he want to close this door? This was the closest he was ever going to get to being with Steve and, even though it hurt, it would probably hurt more to stop altogether.

Probably.

_Be right up_

Tony was screwed.

Literally.

* * *

When Tony got into the room, Steve was lying on the bed. Not seductively, but the way Tony had been lying on his bed. Staring at the ceiling.  


“Is now a bad time?” Tony joked, walking through the door.

“What?” Steve asked, sitting up. When he saw Tony, he relaxed. “No. I texted you.”

“Yeah,” Tony whispered to himself. He braced himself for what was about to happen. He was about to be stripped naked of both clothes and mind, left to deal with the demons of falling in love with the unattainable man. 

Tony got onto the bed and crawled over to Steve. He tried to lose himself in the kiss, but every time he came to Steve’s room, it had been growing increasingly harder to do that. Steve pulled away. “Let’s try something different tonight?”

“Like what?” Tony asked, licking his lips. “You want me to top? Or do it somewhere that’s not the bed?”

“No, something really different.”

“Is this the part where I learn about all your freaky kinks.”

Steve just smiled. He wrapped his arms around Tony and tugged so that they were both lying down. Tony’s body was stiff. He was two seconds away from spontaneously combusting because Steve was doing exactly what Tony had been hoping to avoid.

“What are you doing?”

“You always run away after. I wanna feel what it’s like to hold you.”

“Well, you felt me. Time to move on.”

Steve let go with a sigh and Tony sat up. “Okay. What do you wanna do?”

Tony flopped back on the bed. “I want you to hold me again.”

“You just said no to that.”

Tony groaned and hid his face in the crook of his arm. “I know. But what happens if I don’t want to be Friends With Benefits anymore.”

“You’re the one who keeps answering my texts. You’re the one who comes up here every night.”

“No, no. Not like that. I mean… what if I want more. What if I really want to,  _maybe_ … you know.”

“Then why do you always run away.”

“Because you don’t want that and I don’t want to get too attached. Whoops.”

Steve rolled over and looked at Tony’s face. “How do you know I don’t want that? You never asked.” Tony’s eyes followed Steve’s hand as he reached to grab Tony’s. Tony’s breath hitched a little when Steve laced their fingers together.

“So, uh, do you want…  _this_.”

Steve nodded the smallest of nods and squeezed Tony’s hand a little harder. Tony smiled and scooted closer to Steve. He wriggled himself until he was flush against Steve. Steve threw his arm over Tony’s back, laughing lightly. “I never would have pinned you down for a cuddler.”

“Shuddup.”

They lay there like for hours, legs intwined, a mess of limbs. Four lungs breathing; two chests rising and falling. Two living people, lost in each other, as close as they can get because it was safe, and it was happy.

Tony let himself think that this was home.


	13. Where Tony Watches the Discovery Channel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Tony has the TV on in the background - it's a Discovery Channel's history series, talking about the 1940's. Steve sees this, but stays quiet. Tony takes this negatively and tries to cheer him up, but Steve explains that his tragedy was a blessing in disguise because now they're together.

Tony had been watching anything and everything he could get his hands on that had to do with the 1920’s, 30’s, and 40’s. He didn’t tell Steve, but he was doing it so that he could have something to relate to him about. Even though Steve said he was fine, Tony knew better. He knew Steve missed the past. He missed the way people smiled and held doors. He missed his family and friends.

Ever since he found out Bucky was still alive, he was in a slump.

His best friend was living and breathing, but he remembered as much about Steve as the rest of the world. Nothing. There was nothing Tony could do about it, and that killed Tony.

So, to make a long story short, that’s how he ended up on the couch watching a documentary about lower class living in New York City in the 1940’s. It had been channel surfing and happened across it. Well, maybe  _channel surfing_  was a bad term.  _Relentless searching_  would probably be more accurate. 

_“It may come as a surprise that New York City wasn’t always the cold place it is today. Especially in smaller, more downtrodden areas, a sense of community was very strong.”_

“What are you watching?” Steve asked. Tony whipped his head around to see Steve leaning against the wall, staring longingly at the screen. “That’s my old neighborhood.”

Tony paused the TV.  “What a coincidence.”

“Yeah.” Steve sighed and started to leave the room.

“Wait!” Tony shouted after him. “C’mere.” He patted the couch cushion next to him. Steve frowned, but walked toward Tony.

“What is it?”

“I can’t help but notice you’re… not happy lately.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, but you’re not  _happy_.”

“I don’t want to talk about this,” Steve muttered, standing up. Tony grabbed his sleeve and pulled him back down.

“I want to help you. I can’t stand having you moping around all the time. I understand that this is hard on you. Especially seeing Bucky after all this time. After finally starting fully adapt.” Steve wouldn’t look at Tony. “I’m trying to figure out a little bit about what it was like back then so we can talk about it. Baby, I’m just trying to help you.”

“I know you are. Thank you.”

They sat in silence, Steve still staring at his lap.

“I didn’t help, did I?” Tony asked.

“Not really. But it does make me happy that you’re trying. I  _love_  that you’re trying for me, Tony.”

Tony grabbed Steve’s hand and started to run his thumb over the soft skin. God Steve’s skin was soft. “I know that you wish that it didn’t happen. I know you wished that you weren’t unfrozen—”

Finally, Steve looked up. “You think that?”

“Well… yeah. Is that not right?”

Steve gave Tony a sad smile. “If I wasn’t unfrozen, I never would have met you. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Just because I’m upset right now doesn’t mean I regret anything. I love you, Tony.”

Tony froze for a moment. “You’ve, uh… you’ve never said…  _that_  before.”

“Too soon?” Steve asked.

“Nah. I love you, too. I didn’t even know I  _could_  fall in love.”

“See,” Steve said, pecking Tony’s lips. “Them finding me in the ice… it was a blessing in disguise. It brought me to you, and what else do I need?”

“Please don’t go all  _Twilight_  on me.”

“What?” Steve asked.

“Be thankful you don’t know, honey. Be thankful you don’t know.” Tony leaning in quickly and kissed the questions off of Steve’s lips.


	14. Where Tony Dies Steve's Hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Tony wants to dye Steve's (virgin blonde) hair red, white, and blue for Steve's birthday

Tony had an idea. A  _brilliant_  idea. The kind of idea that was likely to get him killed. He was going to dye Steve’s hair. He was going to dye it red white and blue. He was going to do it for the Fourth of July. Nothing more patriotic that the symbol of the country sporting patriotic hair on the day of patriotism.

All he had to do was figure out how to get Steve to agree.

**The First Attempt:**

“So, Cap. That hair of yours is something else.”

“Thank you?”

“So… blond. Virginal blond. Perfect blond. A wonderful base blond,” Tony cooed as he ran his fingers through his hair.

“What?” Steve batted Tony’s hand away.

“It’s soft, too.”

“What are you getting at.”

“Next week is the Fourth of July.”

“Yes, I know.”

“That’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Let me dye your hair! Red, white, and blue! The colors of America!”

Steve just rolled his eyes and walked away.

**The Second Attempt:**

Tony shook the can of spray in hair dye. He had invited Steve outside under the impression that they were going to be doing a spray-paint mural. He was hiding behind a tree next to where Steve was going to be meeting him.

Sure enough, Steve came around the corner, a mug of coffee in his hand. He set it on the small table beside the paint supplies and started to go through them.

Once he was bent over, Tony crept out from behind the tree and jumped on Steve. He positioned himself to spray the dye into his friend’s hair. However, being the genius that he was, he had the nozzle pointed the wrong way.

Long story short, he had to slump away as Steve laughed and asked why “he looked so blue”.

**The Third Attempt:**

“When’s the last time you got a scalp rub?” Tony asked, sitting next to Steve.

“Um… never?” Tony gasped in horror. “And you’re not going to do it, either, because, for all I know, this is just another attempt at dying my hair.”

Clint shook his head. “Nope, he’s being serious on this one. His scalp rubs are heaven. You don’t even realize how much you need one until he’s doing it.”

“I second that,” Natasha nodded.

“See!” Tony exclaimed, gesturing to their friends. “Now do you trust me?”

“I suppose.”

“Okay big guy, close your eyes, lean your head back, and enjoy.” Steve did as he was told and Tony grinned evilly. Natasha got up and walked to Tony silently. It was truly creepy how quiet she could be when she didn’t want anyone to know where she was. Clint came on his other side.

Steve moaned when Tony started to rub behind his ears. “Told you I give great scalp rubs,” Tony quipped.

“Do you ever.”

“Are you opposed to oils?” Tony asked as Clint handed him the mixed bottle of blue dye.

“What kind of oils?”

“Oils for hair. To keep it soft. And keep your scalp skin healthy.” Tony made a face because he had no idea what he was saying. Clint was pulling on gloves when Natasha handed him the bottle of red dye.

“Uh… okay?” Steve answered.

“Perfect. They kind of stink, but trust me, it’ll be worth it in the end.”

“I trust you, Tony.”

Those four words almost made him not do it.

Almost.

The three went at Steve’s head, taking up random strands they could get at. Clint and Natasha were sly enough that they were able to work through Steve’s hair without Steve knowing it. Tony grinned widely, continuing the massage while his friends maneuvered around him.

“Okay, we’ve got to let the oils sit for about a half an hour and then we can rinse,” Tony announced when they were done. Natasha and Clint scurried off. “Do you want me to keep rubbing?” he asked.

“If you wouldn’t mind.”

Tony smiled and continued to rub his head. When the small timer on Tony’s phone went off twenty five minutes later, he grinned. “I just have to grab a bowl of water and a cup. I’ll be back shortly.” Tony left without another word. Natasha and Clint rejoined him then, helping to refill the bowl with new water until Steve’s hair was running clear.

“All done,” Tony announced.

“Thank you so much,” Steve said. Without another word he got up and left the room. Tony counted the seconds until Steve turned down the hallway where he would inevitably see his reflection.

The scream was satisfying.

Steve running after him yelling, “I’m going to kill you, Tony” was less so.

But still pretty satisfying.


	15. Where "The Mask Gives You Courage"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Superfamily; The Avengers are called in to help with a situation and Spiderman comes to help. Dad and pops overhear "the mask gives you courage" line (up to you if they know Peter is Spiderman or not)

Steve and Tony hid their injuries as best as they could from Peter. He was so young, not even five years old yet, and they wished he didn’t even know about the whole superhero business. It was what it was, and sometimes, the broken bones were too much to hide.

Tony was sitting on the couch, his arm in a cast, mindlessly flipping through the channels. Peter walked up hesitantly and sat down next to him.

“Daddy?”

“What bud?”

“Why are you hurt?”

Tony sighed. “Because I was helping someone else. They needed me. I saved their life, Peter. That’s worth a broken arm.”

“That must be scary,” Peter noted seriously.

“Yes, it is very scary.”

“Why don’t you want people to know it’s you?”

“Well, bud,” Tony moved his son into his lap. Peter’s legs were on either side of Tony and he was staring at his father’s face. “People know it’s me. They know I’m in the Iron Man suit. But when I’m Iron Man, I can be more than just daddy. I know it’s hard for you to understand, but someday you will. The mask gives me courage, Peter.”

“Okay. Does Papa’s mask make him courage, too?”

Tony smiled at the kid’s grammar. “Yes, Papa’s mask makes him very courage.”

“I want a mask.”

Tony pulled his son close with his free arm. “Not yet, sweetheart. You don’t need to be courage yet.”

—

The new kid—Spider-Man he called himself—was a godsend. He wasn’t officially part of the Avengers Initiative—not  _yet_ , if Tony had anything to say about it—but he was always there when they were called. They all wondered how the kid—they thought he was a kid, at least—knew when to come, but sometimes he was at the scene before they were.

Steve had given Spider-Man a comm line a while back, so he was able to communicate with the rest of the team while they were fighting. It was all very lovely.

“Spider-Man!” Captain America shouted, “Little help!”

“Sure thing, pops,” the kid quipped. Steve and Tony both looked around, a bit thrown off, but Spider-Man quickly added, “‘Cause you’re old. Jeez, don’t be such a grump.”

—

Peter hid his injuries as best as he could from his parents. He was too young, barely even seventeen, and he didn’t want them to know about the whole superhero business. It was what it was, and sometimes, a bullet in his arm was too much to hide.

“You have to tell them sooner or later,” Natasha said as he dressed the wound.

“Can you do it for me?”

“No. You have to do this yourself, Peter.”

He hissed through his teeth when her finger rubbed against the sensitive skin. “I’d rather later.”

“Whatever you want, Peter. I’m just saying I don’t think you should wait.”

—

They were on the battlefield again. Peter had recovered and he was back with the team. Iron Man had seen him take the bullet and told him to take a break until he was healed. Well, now he was.

The…  _thing_  had it’s arms around him and started to choke him out. He clawed at it’s arms, but it wasn’t giving up. He watched as Iron Man flew around the corner. “ _Shit_ ,” Peter heard him say. Just like dad, alright. “Spider-Man, I’m coming. Just… stay strong. You’ll be fine.”

“I know.” Peter let himself relax against the thing—fighting would only hurt him more. His dad was going to be there soon. He was going to save him. Everything was going to be okay. But the last thing he saw before blacking out was Iron Man being tackled out of the sky.

—

He came to with both of his parents above him. Dad had flipped the faceplate up and Pops had removed the cowl. It seemed as if the battle was over, but it also seemed as if everything was on fire. Oh, look, it was.

“Kid… kid, you okay?” Dad asked. “You were really fucking brave, okay? Medical is going to be here in a minute.”

“Thanks dad,” Peter croaked. He watched as both of his parents looked at each other.

“What the hell did you just call me?” his dad demanded.

“Dad,” Peter smiled weakly, pulling the mask off his face. He watched as his parents went from worried, to angry, to downright scared.

“What the  _fuck_ ,” his dad hissed, leaned in to take his son in his arms. His pops did the same. The three sat there, huddled against each other.

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Pops groaned, equal parts angry and worried.

“Yeah bud, why the mask?” Dad asked.

“The mask… the mask gives me courage.”

Dad groaned. “What the hell. Peter, you know better than to take my advice. Especially the advice I give you when I’m hopped up on pain killers. Especially the advice I gave you hopped up on pain killers eleven years ago.”

Peter looked down at his hands. “Are you mad?”

“Yes. No. I don’t know. More like worried. Scared,” Pops stuttered.

“You’re our son, Peter. We love you more than anything. And the only reason we’re angry is because you lied to us,” Dad explained.

“Does this mean I can’t be Spider-Man anymore?” he asked finally.

“We’ll talk about it, but I think that we could really use you, Pete. You’re damn good at what you do. As long as you don’t go getting yourself killed, okay?”

“No promises.” He smirked and hoped his parents picked up on his sarcasm.

They didn’t.


	16. Where There's Almost a Divorce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Since I know you are awesome with angst <3 Something happens that has Steve and Tony beleiving their son, Peter (or invent a new kid, be my guest) is dead. Months go by and Steve and Tony's marriage begins to unravel over their loss. When their child turns up alive, they decide to work on their marriage for the child's sake. Lot's of angst please! (You pick the age of the kid).
> 
> TW: DIVORCE

Tony had a drink in his hand when Steve came into the room. He was crying and the bottle was next to him. It was new—there hadn’t been any alcohol in the tower since Tony stopped drinking when Peter was born six years ago—but it was almost totally gone.

“Hey baby,” Steve said, putting his hand on Tony’s shoulder. Tony’s hand reached up and touched Steve’s.

“Hi,” he croaked. His voice was heavy with tears. “I think he’s dead, Steve. I think our son is dead.”

Steve sat down next to him, lacing their fingers together. “He’s only been missing for—”

“Six months, eighteen days, and fourteen hours. Steve… we’ve checked everywhere. We’ve done everything. SHIELD. The CIA. The FBI. Every contact we have has looked for him. They’ve looked everywhere in the state of New York. They’ve looked everywhere in the United States of America. They’ve looked for him everywhere in the world.” Tony refilled his glass. “He’s dead.”

“Tony…” There weren’t words and Steve knew it. Steve knew that Peter was most likely dead. He knew that they would never see their son again. Would probably never even get to have a funeral because no one wants to go to a funeral where they know there’s nothing there.

“Can I please just be alone?” Tony asked, finally.

“Sure, sweetheart.”

—

Three weeks after that, Steve started sleeping on the couch. There were plenty of guest bedrooms on the other floors, but that seemed too… permanent. The couch suited him fine. It was hard, knowing that he couldn’t be close to his husband. They didn’t talk, and it wasn’t just Tony. Steve felt that he didn’t have anything to say, either.

—

After a month of couch sleeping, Steve moved down onto the guest floor.

—

Two weeks after moving to the guest floor, they met up for breakfast and Tony dropped the bomb. “You know that eighty percent of marriages end in divorce after the death of a child.”

“Are you saying—”

“Yeah.”

“Um… okay. I still have my place in Brooklyn if—”

“You can stay here. The guest floor can be converted. Or you can move back to your old floor.”

“Thanks for the offer, but… I think I’ll just go back to Brooklyn.”

“Okay.”

They still sat together, drinking their coffee, wondering why it had to be  _them._

—

Steve was packing his boxes from their floor when his phone rang. “Hello.”

“Steve, great news,” Coulson always sounded so  _excited_  when Steve answered his own phone.

“What’s that?” Because really, what kind of news could be great when he was packing his bags and ending a marriage of almost ten years?

“We’ve found Peter. He’s alive.” Steve dropped the box he was holding. He heard the glass in the picture frames shatter.

“You… you what?”

“We realize that it’s been nearly a year—”

“Eight months, sixteen days, and 12 hours.”

“—But he’s alive. He’s healthy. He misses his fathers. Would you like to Skype with him?”

“Yeah, just hold on a second.” Steve pulled the phone away from his ear and ran to the lab. “Tony, Tony. Open up Skype right now.”

“Steve, please—”

“Open up Skype right fucking now or I swear to God—”

“Okay, you said fuck, I’m doing it.”

Steve put the phone back to his ear. “Can we do it now?”

“Yes.”

And then there he was. Their little boy. Steve felt his throat tighten and a stray tear rolled down his cheek. Tony grabbed blindly for Steve’s hand and squeezed as tightly as he could. “Hi daddy! Hi papa!”

“Hi baby. How are you?” Tony asked. Steve could tell he was an inch away from sobbing.

“I’m okay. Got a few bumps and bruises, but Phil says I’m going to be A-okay!”

Tony smiled. “You’re on a first name basis with him now, are you?”

Peter nodded enthusiastically.

“So where are you guys?” Steve choked out.

“Almost in New York,” Coulson answered, coming onto the screen and sinking down next to Peter.  “Do you want us to drop him off at the Tower?”

“I think that’s a pretty fucking stupid question, Coulson,” Steve demanded. He didn’t even flinch when he realized that Peter had heard him curse. His son’s eyes were wide, hearing his father use a word that was Off Limits, No Exceptions.

“Yes, please drop him off at the Tower.”

“We’ll be there in a half hour,” Coulson said before disconnecting.

“What the hell was that?” Tony turned to Steve.

“Oh lay off, Tony. It’s fine. Whatever he’s been through between here and there, I’m sure hearing the world fuck is okay.”

“But you don’t swear, Steve. And even if he has heard swearing, it’s a different story to hear his  _father_ swear.”

“Get off your high horse Tony. Now the divorce is more complicated because we have to work with a custody battle.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “We’re not getting a divorce now, you fuck face. We have a son to take care of. And besides, our statistic doesn’t even hold out anymore because he’s  _alive_.”

“We were getting a divorce just to fit into the majority of a statistic? It’s not just because we thought he was dead. We weren’t talking. We didn’t sleep in the same bed—”

“Then an act. We’ll put on an act for the kid’s sake. I am  _not_  having him grow up in a broken home.  _No_. Now let’s go unpack your shit before he gets back.”

—

Peter’s legs were too short to carry him as fast as he wanted to go in order to catch up to his dads. He tried, but ended up tripping over his own feet. Steve raced forward and caught him before he had fallen, scooping him into his arms. “We missed you, bud,” Steve said, kissing his son’s nose.

“ _Papa,_ ” he whined, but didn’t wipe the kiss away. “Too big.”

“Oh no, little man,” Tony said, coming up and kissing his son on the cheek. “You’re going to be getting lots of kissies from papa and me and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Smooch sandwich!” Steve shouted and both he and Tony dove down and started to relentlessly kiss their son’s cheeks. He squealed and giggled between them, kicking his legs. In those blissful moments of familial love, Steve was almost able to ignore the fact that an hour ago, he was prepared to leave Tony. Prepared to leave this family. But he still loved Tony.

All he could do was hope that Tony still loved him.

—

Peter refused to sleep in his own room, something both Steve and Tony understood. However, it meant that Steve and Tony had to share a bed; something they hadn’t done in months. The tension was eased by the fact that Peter plopped down right in between them.

Throughout the night he would alternate by gripping onto one of his fathers. He woke up crying more often then Steve and Tony would have liked—not because it woke them up, but because they were painfully familiar of what kind of torture that was—but whoever was awake first would sooth him. A glass of warm milk and a book on the couch usually put him back to sleep. Then, whoever it was would carry him back to the room and they would resume sleeping.

Because Peter never wanted to leave his dads’ sides, they didn’t have a chance to talk. Unspoken questions plagued Steve’s mind constantly. Were they breaking up? What happened when Peter didn’t need them like this anymore? Do we talk when Peter goes to school? Do we ignore each other if we bump into each other in the hallway? Tony, do you still love me?

The moment of truth came when he woke up in the middle of the night parched, to find Peter still there but Tony gone. He got out of bed as quietly as he could and walked to the kitchen. Tony was staring off into nothing, a cup of tea in his hands.

“Hey,” he greeted without turning towards Steve.

“Hi.”

“Do you know what today is?”

Steve racked his brain. Holy shit. “It’s our anniversary.”

“Our tenth.” Tony finally shifted his gaze to Steve. “I wish we didn’t have to spend it not talking.”

Steve sat down next to him. He was still thirsty, but it was suddenly the last thing on his mind. “I—I still love you,  you know.”

“I know.” Tony was looking up and blinking rapidly. Steve looked away and pretended not to notice his husband trying not to cry. “I love you, too. But… I know that I hurt you. Didn’t talk to you for months. Asked for a divorce… I don’t know how you could forgive me after that. I don’t know if I can even forgive myself.” Tony was openly crying now. Steve moved his hands and started to wipe away some of the tears with his thumbs.

“Baby, baby, listen. I love you and I’ll always love you. Even though you hurt me I didn’t stop loving you for one second. I’ll never stop loving you for one second as long as I’m alive on this goddamned earth. Do you understand that?” Tony nodded and looked down. “Then what’s wrong.”

“I don’t deserve that. You deserve better.”

“I don’t want better, I want—”  _you_. It was so cliche it hurt his head to think that he had almost said it.

“What do you want, Steve?” Tony asked. So he was going to make him say it? Alright.

“I want you, Tony. Every part of you.”

“Can I confess something?”

“Of course.”

“I really missed you. Every single second I missed you. I needed you to help me through it but I didn’t know how to talk to you.”

“It doesn’t matter now. It’s all over.”

Tony sighed. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Yes.”


	17. Where Steve Doesn't Like Beds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony goes to visit Steve and finds out about his issue with sleeping of beds. Bonus points if Tony sneaks in and trips over a sleeping Steve.

Tony wasn’t sure why Steve always left after sex. No, it wasn’t just after sex. It was every night. He insisted that they stay in Tony’s bed, then left after Tony was asleep. Steve snuck back into the room before Tony woke up in the morning, giving the  _illusion_  that he had stayed the night. Tony believed it for awhile, until he woke up in the middle of the night once to find Steve nowhere on the entire floor.

He’d hoped it was an isolated incident—maybe Steve had something he had to take care of—but Tony found out that it was a reoccurring theme. Steve left every night and came back every morning. Like clockwork.

“Where do you go?” Tony mumbled one morning when Steve kissed him awake.

For a moment, Steve froze. However, the sheer panic was gone from his face almost as soon as it had come. “What do you mean? I’m right here.”

“No. In the middle of the night. You’re always gone when I wake up.”

“Honey, you just woke up and I’m here.”

Tony decided to let it go. Steve  _was_  always there in the morning, and he did always wait until Tony was asleep before he left. “You’re right. Sorry.”

“I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

“I made pancakes.”

Tony smiled. “I love pancakes.”

“I know.” Steve kissed his nose and then left the bed. “Let’s get going before they get cold.”

—

Tony hadn’t had nightmares in awhile, but they weren’t totally gone, apparently, because he woke up, unable to breathe, blindly clawing at the place Steve should be. It wasn’t long before he caught his breath, but his heart was still pounding in his chest. He needed Steve and he needed him now.

He ran to the elevator, pounding on the button next to the little shield. He knew that slamming on the button wouldn’t make the elevator move any faster, but he needed something to channel his adrenaline into, and the button seemed to be the nearest candidate.

Tony stumbled out of the elevator, hoping that Steve was even on this floor. He moved as quickly as he could to get to the door leading to Steve’s bedroom. He threw the door open, but Steve wasn’t in his bed.Tony wandered in, disoriented and hoping Steve would magically appear. His feet ran into something and he tumbled over the lump.

He pushed himself over so he wasn’t lying on his stomach to realize the lump was… “Steve?”

“What—what are you doing here. You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“Nightmares,” Tony explained.

Steve’s face softened. “I’m sorry.”

“Baby, why are you on the floor.”

Steve looked everywhere but Tony’s face. “The beds, they’re—they’re too soft. I… I don’t know. At war, we slept on thin cots if anything. I got used to it. The beds  _scare_  me. I feel like I’m going to fall through them. That’s—that’s why I leave. I come down here. Sleep on the floor. Wake up and go back to you.”

Tony scooted closer to Steve and placed a kiss to his temple. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I was embarrassed. I didn’t think you’d understand.”

“There’s a difference between empathy and sympathy. I want to help you, but I can’t do that if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

Steve nodded, “I know. I just… didn’t want to put my baggage on you.”

Tony snorted. “Honey, combined, our baggage puts a fucking airport to shame. You don’t have to worry because I’m just as fucked up.” He leaned their foreheads together. “You understand that, right?” Steve nodded. “Can you look at me?” Tony whispered. Steve looked up. “See, isn’t that better?” Steve nodded again. Since their heads were still touching, the movement moved Tony’s head and he chuckled. “You need to be cuddled.”

“On the floor?”

“Yup. C’mon, between my legs, head on my chest,” Tony instructed, gabbing a pillow off the bed and placing it under his head. Steve hummed when Tony wrapped his arms around him. “Is this any better?” Tony asked hopefully.

“This is perfect,” Steve mumbled, already half asleep. “Am I crushing you? I feel like I’m crushing you.”

“Nope. You’re doing just fine.” Tony mindlessly ran his fingers through Steve’s hair until Steve’s breath evened out, the gentle inhale and exhale of sleep. “I love you,” Tony whispered, even though Steve couldn’t hear him. He just loved saying it. He had never loved anyone before.

He liked it.


	18. Where They Get Their Acceptance Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: I'm having a terrible heartbreak right now. So my prompt is Tony and Steve telling each other that they never expected to find someone as perfect and loving after tons of heartbreak and tears of joy happen and promises of eternal love.

When the envelope came in the mail, Tony was the first person Steve told. They had made a pact: all college acceptance letters would remain unopened until they had heard back from all of their schools. This was the last one.

_It came._  He texted

_coming now_  was the immediate response.

Tony must have driven approximately ninety miles an hour because he was at Steve’s house in under five minutes. He got out of his car with a large cardboard box in his hands, filled to the brim with letters from colleges. Steve tried not to feel inferior with his small, rubber band held together stack.

Tony kissed him hello before pushing into the door and going into the kitchen for a soda. He flopped on the couch. After dating for the majority of high school, Tony was more comfortable at Steve’s house than he was his own.

“I guess you should start, seeing as you have three times as many,” Steve gestured toward the box next to Tony.

“Right, okay.” He opened the box and started ripping open envelope after envelope. Accepted. Accepted. Accepted. Accepted. All forty-two schools, including the eight-school sweep of Ivy Leagues.

“Congrats,” Steve mumbled. He started at his own pile. He had worked his ass off all through high school in hopes to get a good scholarship to at least one art school. Accepted. Accepted. Accepted. Accepted. Six for six acceptances. Well, he saved the golden envelope for last. The Rhode Island School of Design.

Tony held his MIT letter in his hand. “Count of three?”

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat. His heart was pounding in his chest. “One,” he whispered, his voice shaky.

“Two.”

“Three,” they shouted in unison, tearing the envelopes open. “Oh my God,” they both whispered.

“I got in,” Tony gasped. The best technical school in the country.

“I did too.” The second best art school in the country. “With a full ride.”

“ _What?_ ” Tony shouted. “That’s, like, not a thing for RISD.”

“I guess it is,” Steve said, still stunned, turning the letter to show Tony.

Tony looked back to his letter. “We both got into our first choice school.”

“Yeah,” Steve whispered. “That are a two hour bus ride apart.”

“Only an hour by car,” Tony said.

“Neither allow cars for freshman. I looked.”

“I’m sure I can work something out,” Tony assured. He pulled Steve into his arms, kissing his temple. Steve tucked his head under Tony’s chin. This was supposed to be the best day of his life. He was accepted to his first choice school. His only choice school. The others were backups if this didn’t work out. But all he could think about that he was going to be leaving Tony.

“You know I’m going to love you forever, right?” Tony asked, carding his fingers through Steve’s hair. “Fifty miles isn’t that bad.”

“It’s not good, either,” Steve mumbled, his throat tight. He had to fight to keep his voice steady. He was unsuccessful.

“We knew this was going to happen,” Tony assured, lacing their fingers together while still playing with Steve’s hair with the other hand. “We knew we were going to go to different schools.”

“But it wasn’t real until five minutes ago.”

Tony nodded. He refused to cry in front of anyone, even Steve. Okay, maybe this one time. He let a few tears roll down his cheeks, sticking his eye lashes together. “I know.” They sat in silence for a long time. They ended up horizontal, spooning on the couch.They took turns being the big spoon. They didn’t need to talk, they just needed to be together.

—

When Tony got home, he went to his dresser and pulled out the envelope he had stashed their weeks ago. The one that he hadn’t told Steve about. He breathed in deeply and tore the envelope.

_Congratulations, Mr. Stark_  was all he read before he pulled out the return forms and filled them out. Before he had left Steve’s house they had filled out Steve’s acceptance letter and put it in the mail, signed, stamped, and soon to be delivered. Tony filled out his and told Steve he’d drop them off at the post office on the way home so that Steve wouldn’t go out to the mailbox and take the note back.

Tony mailed Steve’s letter. The MIT envelope ended up shoved in the glove compartment.

—

When his Johnson and Whales sweatshirt came in the mail, he texted Steve, telling him he was coming over. He didn’t wait for a response before getting into the car and speeding over.

“I’m here,” he announced when he walked in the door.

“Hi,” Steve greeted, wrapping his arms around Tony’s waist before kissing him gently.

Tony pulled away. “I have news,” he said seriously. “Let’s sit.”

“Okaaaaay?”

They sat on the couch, cross-legged facing each other. “Okay, here goes. My life was pretty fucked up before you. And I know you’re going to say that I was only sixteen when we started going out, which is true, but… I never thought I would ever be loved, let alone be able to  _love_. And I don’t just love you, Steve, I’m  _in_  love with you. My heart and soul belongs to you.

“So I did some thinking. Some serious thinking. The Massachusetts Institute of Technology will always be there. There’s grad school and all that shit and I can most definitely get in again. But you’re my everything and you showed me that there is more to me than a smart kid who can build cool shit—”

“Where is this going?” Steve asked. 

Tony unrolled the sweatshirt he had carried in and pulled it over his head. “Johnson and Whales has just gained one certified genius to it’s student body.”

Steve covered his mouth with his hand. His nostrils flared and Tony could tell Steve was about thirty seconds away from crying. It was okay because Tony was pretty sure that he was going to start crying himself.

“But—”

“Nope. I can get a good education here and you’re more important than a certain name on a degree.” Okay, so Steve was actually crying now. “And… I know we’re kids but, fuck, I’m so fucking in love with you.”

Steve tackled him, pushing them back so he was above him on the couch. He started to kiss Tony’s face, smothering the other boy. “You’re perfect, did you know that?”

“I’m not even close, you dweeb,” Tony giggled, wrapping his legs around Steve’s waist, pulling him down. “But I’m pretty sure I’m perfect for you. I love you more than anything and I will love you forever.” Steve smiled. He was still crying and Tony leaned up to kiss the tears away. “You’re such a dweeb.”

Tony brought his mouth to Steve’s, kissing him slowly. There was no rush now. They had all the time in the world. Steve pulled back. “Oh!”

“What?” Tony asked, panicked.

“I forgot to tell you that I’m in love with you, too.”

Tony chuckled. “You don’t have to tell me. I already know.”


	19. Where Steve Goes Away/Sweater Song

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Hi, I was wondering if you could write a stony fic based of the "Sweater Song" by Hedly please

Tony had his hand laying on Steve’s bare chest, tracing meaningless patterns. He ran his foot up and down Steve’s pajama clad leg, as if he wasn’t actively proving it was there, Steve would disappear. Things had been more than perfect between them for a long time.

“So I have a lead on Bucky.” Steve’s voice rumbled in his chest and Tony looked up at him.

“Oh?”

“I have to go, Tony. I’m sorry I just… have to. He’s my best friend. I’m all he has.”

“When are you planning to leave?” Tony asked, moving his body up so that his face was even with Steve’s. He knew his protests for Steve to stay would be in vain.

“I’ve talked to Sam and… we were planning to leave today.”

Tony sat up. “And you’re just now telling me?” Tony let the arm supporting him go limp and he flopped back on the bed. “Baby, don’t leave. Stay home. Stay close.” To make his protest stronger, he snuggled into Steve’s side and rested his head in the crook of his neck. “Be close to me.”

Steve smiled at that and carded his fingers through Tony’s hair. They lay like that for uncountable minutes, content with each other, dozing as the shadows changed angles around the room.

Finally, Steve sat up. “Baby, you know… I’ve gotta run.” He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, his feet silent on the carpet. Tony jumped up and wrapped his arms around his waist, kissing his shoulder. Steve turned around, facing Tony. “I gotta go. I won’t be long.” He pecked Tony’s lips. “I won’t be long.”

Steve broke out of Tony’s arms and moved to the walk-in closet, grabbing a few shirt and shoving them into a small bag. He took the Captain America suit out of it’s holding station in the closed off area. Tony fretted after him, handing him things. “You and Sam have a weird relationship. So, uh… don’t you flirt with him.”

“I’m not going to flirt with him, Tony,” Steve chuckled and kissed Tony’s temple distractedly.

“And—and,” Tony sighed. “Baby, please don’t get hurt.” Tony dug through one of his drawers and dug out his Black Sabboth t-shirt—the one they had been wearing when they first met. “If you feel alone then here, take my shirt.”

Steve gave him a sad smile and pulled it on over his head. They both laughed when his stretched over his torso and barely reached his belly button. “A perfect fit,” he chuckled, buttoning up a plaid shirt over it.

“You’re actually gonna wear it?”

“Of course,” Steve kissed Tony with everything he had, letting Tony know that he was the most important thing in Steve’s life. “Forever. It’s, um, supposed to get chilly and I know you hate the weather so, here,” Steve forced Tony into one of his sweaters. “Maybe you should hold on to my sweater.”

Tony wriggled his arms through the sleeves, which were too long. He moved his arms and let the loose sleeves flop around. “It’s too big.”

“I think it looks perfect.” Steve took Tony in his arms, lifting him clear of the ground, kissing him roughly. Tony wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist, tugging at his hair. “I have to go. I love you so much. I’ll be home as soon as I can.”

“Okay.” Tony walked Steve out, dressed in nothing but his boxers and the greenish brown sweater Steve had given him. “I love you.” He waved after Steve.

—

Natasha, Bruce, and Tony were lounging. Tony was occupying his and Steve’s couch, his head where Steve’s lap should be. He frowned, playing with the hem of the sweater, hoping Steve would call soon. He knew that Steve was most likely okay, but he was protective, okay? Steve meant the world to him and he wished he was there to protect him.

The phone rang and Tony sat up like a bolt. He jumped over Bruce, who was on the floor, and nearly kneed Natasha in the face when he climbed over her chair in his mad dash to reach the phone.

“Babe, I miss you. Come back home,” he shouted before Steve could even breathe a hello.

Steve exhaled in a way that let Tony know he was smiling. “I hate this place,” he admitted. “I miss your smile. I miss your face.”

“Steve,” Tony whispered, closing his eyes. It had been two weeks and just hearing his voice grounded him back in the earth. His throat closed. “You’re still being safe, right?”

“Of course.”

“‘Cause last time you came back pretty beat up. I can’t lose you. You make me better.”

“Honey, I’m fine. I’ll be home soon.”

“And, so you know, I’m still in your sweater.”

There was a shuffling on the other end of the line and something that sounded like Steve sniffing in an attempt not to cry. “I’ve sweat a lot and smell of dirt, but I think I’d feel naked without your shirt.”

“You still have it on?” Tony asked, surprised. He thought Steve had been humoring him by taking it.

“It’s so tight on me it fits under the Captain America suit.”

Tony smiled. He and Steve made mindless chatter. Tony caught him up about what was happening in the tower and Steve talked a bit about how the search for his friend was going. After a bit, they resulted to just whispering sweet nothings at each other.

Tony ignored Natasha and Bruce pretending to gag behind him.

—

Tony woke up when the bed shook. Steve was standing above him, his feet on either side of Tony’s waist. He was bouncing. It took Tony a moment for his eyes to focus. “Steve!” he shouted “I wish you’d told me you were coming. I’m all morning-ugly.”

“You’re looking great. I’m home, I’m back, I couldn’t wait. That was  _way_  too long.”

Tony smiled and grabbed Steve’s legs, causing him to lose his balance and fall to the bed next to Tony. “Get over here,” he murmured, pulling Steve into his arms. “I crave you close. I need you near.”

“Back to forever,” Steve whispered, kissing Tony like it had been three years instead of three weeks. “Not gonna lie, all I wanna do is get you outta that sweater.”

Tony let out a loud laugh. “I love the way you flirt.” He let Steve pull the sweater over Tony’s head and threw it to the side. It was the longest Tony had been away from it aside from showering. Steve kissed along his jaw and down his neck. “I’m so glad you didn’t get hurt,” Tony mumbled, rubbing Steve’s scalp with the pads of his fingers. “Now,” he pulled Steve up to look him in the eye. “Let me see you naked without that shirt.”


	20. Where Steve Gets A Blowjob

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Steve comes out as bisexual and Tony instantly turns his charm onto turbo mode

Tony wasn’t surprised when Steve came out to the press as bi. He’d had more than enough sexual encounters with both sexes that he had developed pretty reliable gaydar. What did surprise him, though, was how much he wanted Steve. Now it wasn’t just an assumption, it was real, and that suddenly made Tony’s affection real.

It was a horrible mess. Steve was his best friend and now all he could think about was getting in his pants. No, he didn’t just want to get in Steve’s pants. He wasn’t a  _relationship_  with him. Jesus Christ. He had one option: Tony Stark, Wanton Flirt, Level Ten Charm engaged.

—

He figured Steve was a wine and dine kind of guy. He had JARVIS keep tabs on Steve so that Tony could “bump into him” at just the right moment to ask. Unfortunately, the AI wasn’t good at judging the opportune moment because Tony rounded the corner and ended up walking into Steve.

Oh god, he was freshly showered. He smelled of apple pie because Tony bought him the shampoo that did that, saying it was nice that the all-american boy smelled like the all-american food. Mostly he just found it irresistible. His hair was mussed; he obviously wasn’t expecting to run into anyone—figuratively or literally.

“Oh, hey Tony,” Steve half-greeted, half-questioned.

“H-hey.”  _Smooth, Stark_. It wasn’t his fault. The smell was messing with his mind. He was high on Steve-smell and that was just… not okay. “I’ve actually been looking for you.”

“Yeah?”

“I was wondering if you’d want to go out to dinner with me—”

“Wait, we’re going out to dinner?” Clint dropped from the ceiling. Seriously?

“Dinner?” Bruce asked, rounding the corner, a steaming mug in his hand.

“I like food. Stark, you’re paying,” Clint called over his shoulder as he left.

“So I guess that’s a yes,” Steve chuckled. “I’ll go get everyone rounded up.”

“We’re going expensive. Everyone in a suit,” Tony shouted, telling JARVIS to relay the message throughout the tower. The money didn’t matter and at least he’d get to see Steve in a suit.

He hadn’t thought about what that would do to him, however, and he ended up with his napkin in his lap like a lady.

—

Tony was tipsy. Not full on drunk, just tipsy, even though it seemed that the amount of alcohol it took him to get tipsy is the amount of alcohol it took most people to get drunk, but whatever. He had a high alcohol tolerance, leave him alone.

Maybe he was a little drunker than he thought.

“Hey Cap,” he smirked, plopping down on Steve’s lap, forcing the blond to put his book to the side. “You have a nice ass, did you know that?”

“Yes, you’ve told me that before.”

“I wanna play it like the bongos,” Tony stated, matter-of-factly, slapping what he could reach of Steve’s thighs. “I could make sweet music with your ass.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “You’re very drunk, Tony.”

“M’just  _tispy,_ ” he insisted.

“Whatever you say,” Steve chided. He pushed Tony the slightest bit, but the movement was enough to make the other man flail and fall off the couch. He groaned but Steve knew he was okay because if he wasn’t, he’d be making a scene. After a few minutes of Tony lying on his feet, they started to fall asleep. “You okay down there.”

“Can’t get up. M’more than tipsy.”

He could  _hear_  Steve’s disapproving smirk, but it was all okay because Steve scooped him up in a fireman’s carry and brought Tony to his room. He all but threw Tony on the bed, who just rolled around and tangled himself in his down comforter.

“Hey Steve, guess what?”

“What?”

“M’beds soft.”

“That’s nice.”

“You wanna join me?”

“Goodnight, Tony,” Steve said, placing a kiss to Tony’s forehead. Tony threw his arms up in an attempt to capture Steve’s face in his hands, but ended up high fiving himself.

“Night, Steve,” he whispered as Steve flicked the light off.

—

“Present for you.” Tony slabbed the box of chocolates in front of Steve. Steve’s eyes lit up and he opened it, popping one in his mouth. He offered one to Tony, who shrugged and took it from him. He unwrapped it and bit into it as Steve dove into the bag for another. “You know, these have 79 calories in them,” he mentioned offhand, pretending to read the bag (he had already looked it up).

“Oh really?” Steve asked sarcastically. “ _Fascinating_.”

“Yeah. Unfortunately an hour of sex only burns 68.” He shrugged and put the bag back on the table.

“Did you pick someone up?” Steve asked, looking around the room.

Oh my god, how could he be this oblivious? Tony groaned and snatched the chocolate away from Steve, dragging his feet and retreating out of the room. “I’m not a manslut anymore, Steve,” he called over his shoulder.

—

Subtly wasn’t working in Tony’s favor. He wasn’t sure  _why_  Steve wasn’t picking up on his advances—he was pretty sure he wasn’t  _totally_  naive about sex/dating/relationships/whatever—and Tony was really fucking sick of it, which was why he found himself stomping through the halls of the tower in search of that pie smelling asshole. When he found him he slammed him against the wall.

“What are you doing?” Steve asked.

“You’re so fucking dumb,” Tony grumbled. He kissed Steve then, rough, all tongues and teeth and it was clear that Steve was not used to it. Tony didn’t even care because Steve had just brushed his teeth and he tasted like a biting mint and oh god it was so perfect.

He felt his hand wandering down. He wasn’t even controlling it, really. It was moving on it’s own accord. Well, mostly. He found himself palming Steve’s dick through his pants. Steve let his head fall back and hit the wall. “Oh god,” he moaned.

Without thinking, Tony was on his knees, unzipping Steve’s pants, and reaching inside. “This okay?” he asked. Sure he was horny and this seemed like a brilliant idea, but he thought back to his original plan of wooing Steve and thinking he was a wine and dine sort of guy.

“Well, you started it, so you might as well finish it.”

_Oh my god_. Tony pulled Steve’s cock out, shoving his pants down so they were resting at his ankles. He was  _classy_  goddamn it. He wasn’t having the zipper digging into Steve’s balls. He was a gentleman for fucks sake.

Tony ran his thumb over the head of Steve’s dick and Steve, not knowing what to do, started slamming the back of his head against the wall. “Please don’t give yourself a concussion.” Tony didn’t change anything though, just slowly his fingers up and down Steve’s shaft. He wasn’t gonna lie, Steve’s incessant attempt to become concussed was satisfying.

“Have you ever had your dick sucked?” Tony asked innocently. Steve opened his eyes and looked down at Tony. He could tell that Steve’s thoughts were fighting through a haze of lust. Tony took that as a no and smirked. He didn’t say anything more, instead swallowed Steve down as far as he could. Steve’s dick was huge okay, and Tony’s skull was only so deep before it reached his throat. He tried not to gag because that is decidedly not sexy.

“Fucking hell,” Steve groaned, his knees buckling. Tony smiled as well as he could with Steve still in his mouth. He liked it when Steve swore. To keep the blond steady, he put one arm between his legs and one on his side. He hallowed out his cheeks and started to slowly bob his head. Steve scraped his nails against the wall, desperate for traction. Tony looked up at him. Oh good god that was a beautiful face Steve was making.

He pulled back, spit and pre-come stringing between his mouth and Steve’s cock. “You’re chipping my paint.”

Steve looked down, immediately removing his hands away from the wall. “I’m so sorry.”

Tony rolled his eyes. Steve was stupid when he was horny. Although, Tony couldn’t blame him. He had been banging his head against the wall and he was thinking through his crotch at the moment. “Put your hands on my head and pull my hair like a normal person.”

Steve whimpered. His hands shaking as he reached up to Tony’s head. Tony smiled when he felt Steve wind his hair through his fingers. “This okay?” Steve asked, his voice shaky. Tony made a mental note that Steve’s sex voice was better than all the music in the world.

“Lovely. Now fuck my face.”

Steve pulled up on Tony’s hair. Tony yelped in surprise and was surprised that Steve didn’t stop to ask if he was okay. That was alright with Tony because he was too far gone to feel any minor pain like  _hair pulling_.

He guided Steve into his mouth. Steve hesitantly pulled back and pushed farther into Tony. The head of Steve’s cock pushed against the back of his throat. Instead of gagging, Tony moaned. The vibration from his throat obviously did something to Steve because he set a steady rhythm, rocking his hips against Tony’s face.

Tony just knelt there, sill bracing Steve, even though he was the one who was starting to have difficulty staying upright.

“Touch yourself,” Steve croaked. What the fuck, when did Steve get bossy and why was it the best thing that had ever happened to Tony? He didn’t hesitate, unzipping his fly and shoving his hand into his pants. He had been focused on Steve but holy good god he had needed this. He tried to start slow, draw it out, but Steve was still fucking his face and being very vocal about it and, to be honest, Tony had been on the fucking edge since the minute this started because who wouldn’t be? He was sucking Captain America’s dick.

He came embarrassingly fast. He made a sort of choking sound when he did, which pushed Steve over the edge. Steve’s come was in Tony’s mouth and all over his face and, goddamn it, in his hair, but he didn’t care. 

“Oh darn, looks like I’ve made a mess,” Steve frowned. He sank to his knees and took Tony’s hand and brought it to his lips, licking Tony’s come off of it. Oh dear god, why? When he was satisfied with that, he looked at Tony’s face. “Time to clean you up,” Steve whispered. Tony made to get up, but Steve pulled him Tony, licking his own come off of Tony’s face.

“What the  _fuck?_ ” Tony hissed, because if that wasn’t the hottest thing ever he didn’t know what was.

“I’ve been waiting, you dumbass. I’ve been waiting for this for a long time.”

“To lick jizz off my face?” Steve just nodded, sucking at the corner of Tony’s mouth. “But—but you were so oblivious!”

“Acting. Wanted to see how long it would take. Almost killed me.”

“But—but—”

“Please shut up.”

Tony could only nod dumbly.


	21. Where Tony Cries During "The Notebook" ~mini one-liner drabble~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: "Don't cry, it's just a movie, Tony, geez."

"No, I’m not watching that with you," Tony insisted, pointing at the DVD box in Steve’s hand.

"Why?" Steve asked. "What’s wrong with  _The Notebook?_ ” _  
_

"It’s stupid… and it’s a _romance_  film. I’m not watching it.”

Steve wrapped his arm around Tony’s shoulder and pressed a kiss to his temple. “I’m stupid and romantic and you keep me around.”

"S’different," Tony mumbled. He looked away from Steve because he was making puppy eyes and Tony was weak, so weak. "Fine. Put it in."

As the movie played, Steve deduced that Tony had watched it more than once.

 _"It wasn’t over for me. I waited for you for_ seven years _, but now it’s too late._ " Tony mouthed along with the screen. "Oh God, Steve, it’s coming," he gasped, clutching Steve’s arm as Allie jumped into Noah’s arms and kissed him. 

"Are you—? Don’t cry, it’s just a movie, Tony, geez."

"This is all  _your_  fault. I told you I didn’t want to watch this dumb movie.” He got up and left the room with the shred of dignity he still had.


	22. Where Bucky is Tony's Biological Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: bucky turns out to be tony's biological father. cue, overprotective buck and awkward steve coz he's interested in his best friends son

Tony knew he wasn’t Howard’s son. He’d known since he was twelve years old. It helped explain why his father hated him. Howard thought Tony was the son of Steve Rogers, Captain America, his war time buddy and the man he loved more than his offspring. It was disgusting really. The war in Vietnam was horrible beyond belief, but somehow Howard had managed to get a best friend, a wife, and a child out of it. Joke’s on him because his best friend died, his wife hated him, and, well, his son was a disappointment even though he had somehow been just as smart, if not smarter, than Howard.

Somewhere along the line he let it stop bothering him. He probably would have grown up an orphan, lived alone, been locked up in some orphanage where the other kids would eat him alive because, okay, he was kind of a nerd. But alas, he grew up with mansions and expensive things and all the money a person could ever ask for.

Then Steve was found and back in Tony’s life. Steve wondered why Tony hated him, but how could he not? This man had gone and got himself “killed”, leaving the mother of his child and said child alone in the world to fight for themselves.  _Not cool._

“What’s your problem with me?” he asked, one day. Steve had been working relentlessly to bring his fellow frozen friend, Bucky, back from a mind wipe. It… wasn’t going well.

“Nothing,” Tony grunted. “ _Dad_.”

“What?” Steve asked.

“Oh, you don’t know. Well, here’s a fun fact. I’m your fucking son. Did you know that? Did you know that you got yourself killed or whatever, leaving my mom pregnant and alone—”

“Tony, that’s—”

“Oh wonderful Howard found out I was your bastard and married my mom—”

“Tony, please listen to m—”

“He got to raise  _Captain America’s_  child. If you can call what he did child rearing. Doesn’t matter.”

“Tony if you would just shut up for a second I’d tell you that I am not your father. I couldn’t be. I was a virgin when I died.”

“ _What?_ ” Tony shouted.

“I—I couldn’t be your father.”

Tony felt a sinking in his gut. Steve wasn’t his father? Then who the fuck was? He felt dizzy, but he couldn’t let Steve know that, so he sunk into the chair beside him, gripping the table a little more forcefully than he should have. “So… who the fuck is my dad?” he asked. He knew it shouldn’t bother him anymore—the whole thing had stopped bothering him  _decades_  ago—but now it was different. He wasn’t sure how, but it was.

“I don’t know, Tony. But if you want, I can try and help you figure it out.” Steve placed a hand on Tony’s shoulder, then immediately pulled it back. Tony didn’t know why, but he craved the touch.

He was too proud to tell Steve.

“I didn’t know any Maria Stark.”

“Of course you didn’t you dolt, she wasn’t Maria Stark until after the war. Her maiden name is Carbonell.” Tony turned to see Steve’s face drain. Obviously he knew the name. Was this asshole lying to him about being his father? “What?” he asked.

“I—I knew her. She, um… she was Bucky’s girl.”

“Bucky as in brain washed, assassin Bucky?”

“Yeah. Him.”

“Fucking hell.” Tony dropped his head down to the table. He hit it too hard and wanted to wince in pain, but his pride kept him from doing so. He may not have been related to Howard, but he had somehow inherited his ego.

—

Years went by and, with Tony’s hatred towards Steve gone, they had become close. Really close. Like maybe holding hands while watching movies and kissing every once in awhile close. But not boyfriends close. Not yet, at least.

Tony had been helping to try and restore Bucky’s memories. Steve worked on the past while Tony worked on catching him up with the future. It was a little weird talking to his father—who didn’t know he was his father—who was biologically younger than him.

Basically it was all pretty fucking weird.

Bucky was doing fairly well. He still had his off days, but for the most part he remembered his times with Steve in the past and recognized Tony from their days together. They hadn’t told Bucky exactly  _who_ Tony.

“I think you should tell him,” Steve said one day out of nowhere. Tony dropped a wrench on his head. They were in Tony’s workshop. Tony was working on a new Iron Man suit while Steve sketched him. It was all very normal, which is why the comment surprised Tony as much as it did.

“As in…?”

“He deserves to know he has a son. I think he’s stable enough for that, now.”

Tony sat down on the couch next to Steve. “What if he doesn’t like me?”

“He knows you, Tony. He likes you.”

“Yeah, but a mano y mano relationship is different than father-son relationship and you know it. I’m friends with Romanov but if I found out I was her dad, I wouldn’t look at her the same way again. It’s just…”

“What’s this really about?”

Tony heaved a sigh. “I was already rejected by one father. I don’t want to be rejected by another.” This was one of those every-once-in-awhile moments when Steve usually kissed Tony, so he did. “Thanks,” Tony mumbled.

“You’re welcome.”

Tony sighed again. “Let’s go do this before I lose my balls.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

—

“Hey Buck,” Steve greeted.

“Hey jerk,” Bucky greeted with a smirk. It was a good day. He always joked with Steve when it was a good day. “‘Sup?”

“There’s someone I’d like you to meet,” Steve said, pulling Tony into the room, lacing their fingers together.

“I already know Stark,” Bucky chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Wait… why’re you two holding hands?”

“Moral support,” Steve answered immediately before Tony had time to flounder for an answer.

“For who?”

“Bucky,” Tony said, hesitantly. “There’s something you don’t know about me. About you. About, um, us.”

“Kay?”

Tony opened his mouth but couldn’t form the words. “I can’t do this, Steve,” he said instead. “Can’t we just leave it?”

“Tell me what?”

“Can you do it?” Tony begged, pulling on Steve’s hand. Steve nodded.

“Buck, do you remember Maria Carbonell? We’ve talked about her a few times.”

“Yeah. She was my girl during the war, right?” Steve nodded. “What about her?” Bucky asked.

“Well… she’s Tony’s mom.”

Bucky looked confused for a moment. “Oh? Okay. Were you afraid I’d be mad at her for movin’ on? I died. M’not jealous of ya, Stark.”

“Well, um… she did move on but, uh, not as much as you think. She… she’s my mom and you… you’re my dad. By blood, at least. Howard married her because he thought I was Steve’s. She never told him because she didn’t have the money to bring up a child on her own,” Tony explained, scared.

“How long have you known?”

“A couple of years,” Steve admitted. “We wanted to wait until we thought you could handle the news.”

Bucky nodded, as if it all made sense. He was taking it surprisingly well. Well, until he punched Steve in the face. “Why would you keep that from me?”

Steve blinked, his nose twitching as it started to bleed. “Ow,” was all he said.

“Bucky!” Tony gasped in horror. “What the fuck?” He took Steve’s face in his hands and started to inspect it. He grabbed some tissues that were on the coffee table next to them and wiped the blood from under Steve’s nose. “I don’t think it’s broken,” he said. Without thinking, he kissed the tip of Steve’s nose. “All better.”

“What the fuck was  _that_?” Bucky shouted. “Did he just  _kiss_  you.”

“Kinda,” Steve admitted.

“Are you two together?”

“Kinda,” Steve repeated. Bucky punched him again.

“What the fuck?” Tony yelled again, grabbing more tissues and holding them under Steve’s nose to stop the blood. “I think you actually broke it that time.”

“Sorry.” Bucky actually sounded sorry, so they decided not to hold it against him. “But you’ve been sleeping with my son. You gotta admit that’s uncomfortable for all parties involved.”

“We’re not sleeping together,” Tony said, distracted as he held the tissues under Steve’s nose. “And are you going to act all awkwardly paternal toward me now? I’d like things to stay the same.”

“I don’t see how they can.”

“Steve and I have known for a long time and I haven’t treated you any differently. So… I guess it’s all good, right?”

“Can I ask you one thing?” Bucky asked.

“Um… sure?” Tony asked. Steve’s nose had stopped leaking so he gave Bucky his full attention.

“You grew up thinking Steve was your dad and now you’re mackin’ on him. Isn’t that weird?”

“At first. But I never knew him when I thought he was my dad, and he was a lot different from the stories Howard told me, so all it was in the end was a name,” Tony shrugged. “Can I ask you a question, now?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not gonna call me son and you’re not gonna make me call you dad right?”

“Nah. I’d prolly break  _your_  nose if you called me dad.”

Tony smirked. “That’s exactly the answer I’d been hopping for.”


	23. Where Steve Cheats on Bucky With Tony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Steve is with Bucky but cheating with Tony and he wants Tony but doesn't want to hurt Bucky

Tony was a lot younger than them, so he lived in a different dorm than they did. Well, he wasn’t a  _lot_ younger, than them. He was a freshman compared to their junior. They lived in Brown Hall, Tony lived in Stark Hall.

It took him awhile to put it together that he was Tony Stark and the building was his father’s, but that was beside the point. The point  _was_  that he was sleeping with Tony but he was also sleeping with Bucky and he thought he had loved Bucky but now he was sure he loved Tony and he didn’t know what to do and what was it about these two people that was so fucking enchanting and why did they both have to want Steve? Even in his thoughts he had to take a deep breath before his hysterical run-on sentence freakout took over his brain.

He really wanted to enjoy himself, too, because his dick was currently in Tony’s mouth and all he could think about was how wrong this was. How much he loved Tony but knew he was going to end up hurting him.

“What’s wrong?” Tony asked, getting off of his knees.

“Whu?” Steve asked.

“You look like I’m giving you a colonoscopy, not a blow-job”

Steve smirked because that was such a Tony comment. God he loved this kid. He couldn’t love this kid. He had a boyfriend. A boyfriend

A boyfriend.

A boyfriend.

_I want Tony to be my boyfriend._  “I have to go.” Steve lifted his hips off the bed and pulled up his pants before swinging his legs over the side and leaving the room/pit. Tony had a single room and didn’t have a floor. He was almost out the door before he turned around, ran back to the bed, and kissed the confused freshman quickly.

Tony didn’t kiss back.

—

He went back into his room to find Bucky lazily throwing a ball up in the air and catching it. Steve smiled. He once loved Bucky. He had loved him a lot. But it… wasn’t the way it was with Tony and that sounded so horribly cliche and disgustingly high school (even though they were in college) but he just couldn’t look at Bucky the way he used to.

“Where ya been?” Bucky asked. He couldn’t multitask for shit and he ended up missing the catch and it bounced off his face and rolled across the room. Steve bent down to pick it up and tossed it back to his roommate… er… boyfriend.

“Around,” Steve shrugged, praying Bucky wouldn’t push it. He should have come up with a better alias when he was walking back, but all he had been thinking about was Tony, Tony, Tony, Tony, wait no, Bucky, Tony. He flopped on his bed, burying his face in his pillow.

“You okay?” Bucky asked, sitting up and moving to Steve’s bed.

“My life sucks dick,” he groaned into the pillow. Poor choice of words. His mind jumped back to Tony. Goddamn it.

“Why?”

“Did you ever feel one way at one point, and then something happened and you started to feel another way, but you still kinda feel a little bit like the first part but it’s not as strong and it’s the second thing that you want more?”

“That was a stream of words and tenses that made no sense, but I think I got the gist. Why? What have you changed your mind about?”

_Tell him_. “Nothing. Just… I’m thinking about changing my major,” he lied.

“Halfway through junior year? Are you a masochist? You won’t be a super senior, you’d be a super duper pathetic twenty five year old still working on his degree. What would you even change it to?”

Steve groaned again and rolled over, flopping his arm over his eyes. “I don’t know. Everything.” Bucky shifted so that Steve’s head was in his lap and gently started to rub his shoulders. Oh god no, please no, he’s making it too hard. Fuck, shit, dick, balls, crap. He sat up. “I have to go.”

“You just got back.”

“I just… have to talk to a professor.”

“I’ll go with you and then we’ll go to dinner. We haven’t gone on a real date in awhile.”

“NO!” Steve shouted a bit too forcefully. “No,” he repeated, calmer. “I have to do this on my own.”

—

He knocked on Tony’s door. The younger boy yanked open the door. “ _What?_ ” he snapped.

“Okay, I get it, you’re mad.”

“What gave me away?”

“May I please come in?”

“No.”

“Please.”

Tony groaned. “Fine.” He opened the door just enough for Steve to duck inside before slamming it closed again. “If you’re here to apologize—”

“No, that’s not why I’m here.”

“So you’re not going to apologize?”

“Do you know Bucky Barnes?”

“Yeah, sorta. Why?”

“He’s my boyfri—” Steve stopped mid word when he was beaned in the head with a balled up sock that had been on the floor for who knows how long.

“What the  _fuck?_ ” Tony shouted, throwing another sock. “You have a  _boyfriend?_  Is that why you left? Did he finish what I started this evening?” At ‘started’, Tony chucked a giant eraser that said  _FOR BIG MISTAKES_  written on it. Fitting.

“I get it, I fucked up, but—”

“There’s no  _but._  You’ve been sleeping with me and sleeping with him and that’s not okay. Is that why you never spend the night?”

“Yes,” Steve whispered under his breath.

“And that’s why I can never go to your room?”

“Yes.”

“You disgust me. You tell me you love me then go shove your dick in someone else’s ass. Pathetic.”

“Tony, I  _love_  you. In a way that I never loved hi—”

“Get out.”

“Tony, please…”

“Get. Out.” Steve got up and, on his way out, tried to kiss Tony. Tony leaned away. “Don’t touch me.”

—

Steve wandered in circles around campus. It was a lot bigger at night and alone. He had to tell Bucky about Tony, because it wasn’t fair to string him along. Even thought he didn’t have Tony anymore, he owed it to him to tell Bucky the same truth.

Before he went back, he stopped by the Residential Programs and Services and filled out a room switch request. He told the woman that he didn’t care what building he lived in as long as he wasn’t on the forth floor of Brown or the sixth floor of Stark. She nodded her head and said she’d email him as soon as she found out. He said thank you and left

—

“Some kid named Tony called,” Bucky said, terrifyingly calm, as soon as Steve walked into the room.

“Oh?”

“Asked if I was Bucky Barnes.”

“Oh.”

“Told me you’ve been sleeping with him.” Bucky tapped his pen against his leg. “Is it true. And don’t lie to me. You owe me that much.”

“Yes. I… that’s where I’ve been going.” Bucky took a sharp breath and let out a long exhale. “I went down to RPS. I’ll sleep in Peggy’s room until I get my new assignment.”

“Yeah. I think that’d be best.” Bucky stood. “I’m going out. Text me when you’re stuff is moved out and then delete my number.”

“I do love you, you know.”

“Goodbye, Steve.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I said goodbye.” The door shut behind Bucky and Steve wondered if that was what it felt like for the jail cell bars to slide home.


	24. Where Young Peter is Blind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Blind, toddler Peter

Tony wouldn’t forgive himself as long as he was alive. He was pretty sure he’d still hate himself after death. This one event would be what haunts him throughout his afterlife, keeping him from ever achieving peace. Steve told him it wasn’t his fault.  _Peter_  told him it wasn’t his fault. Tony refused to believe either of them. Their son was blind and it was his fault.

Peter had begun to toddle around, which Steve and Tony found endlessly adorable if not traumatic at times (he now didn’t have to cry at night for them to come to him, he could go to them). Peter’s favorite game was to get into the regular elevator and have one of his parents in another. They’d push the same floor button at the same time and race.

One day Peter was racing with Steve. He hit the wrong button and ended up in Tony’s workshop instead of the community floor. That was okay because he missed daddy, so he walked forward to give him a hug. Tony didn’t hear the elevator ding: the music was too loud. He watched sparks fly around the metal of a new suit through his safety goggles. But Peter was two and he didn’t know that the sparks were hot and they looked like fairy dust and he ran to them and Tony didn’t have a chance to scream “PETER NO!” before the child was screaming and grabbing at his face.

Tony threw everything to the side, wrenched off his gloves and goggles, and ran to his son. He took him in his arms and ran, screaming for JARVIS to call an ambulance. He ran up six flights of stairs to the common area. There were tears streaking down his face and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He found a very confused Steve, who was standing in front of the elevator waiting for Peter to get off.

“Oh my god,” Steve said, fussing over the screaming toddler.

“He—he got of the workshop floor. It was an accident, Steve. Really. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, Tony. Have you called an ambulance?”

“Of course, but I wanted to find you first.”

“Okay, let’s get down to the lobby.”

The sound of Peter’s screams was piercing. Haunting. It wasn’t because they were annoyed that they wanted it to stop; it was because they wanted their little baby boy to stop being in pain.

They weren’t allowed in the ambulance no matter how much Steve insisted and no matter how much money Tony threw at them. Finally, Steve and Tony relented. The longer they argued, the longer it would take to get Peter to the hospital. They ran to one of Tony’s cars, hopped into the fastest, and sped the entire way to the hospital.

When they got there, Peter was already in ICU. All they could do was sit and wait.

“Are you the parents of Peter Stark?” the nurse asked after an eternity of staring at nothing-ness.

“ _Yes,_ ” Tony hissed sarcastically. The doctor knew who they were and was just being polite or some shit like that. Tony didn’t have time for polite.

“He’s going to be okay. The burns will heal fully and we’ve done everything we can so that there is minor scarring—”

“What’s the bad news? Your tone says bad news,” Tony quipped.

“The sparks did permanent damage to his retinas, making it so his eyes can’t produce their own fluids.”

“What does that mean? Tear drops three or four times a day until it heals?” Steve asked, his tone hopeful, his face afraid.

“Your son,  _Peter_ ,” she corrected. “Is blind.”

Tony felt like he had been punched in the gut. “Blind?” He gasped out. “As in… blind, blind?”

“I’m afraid so. There is nothing we can do. I’m so sorry.”

Tony fell into Steve. How could he have done this? How could he have taken sight—something that was so fundamentally necessary for a normal human life—from his son? The nurse continued talking, but Tony was underwater. He couldn’t hear, he couldn’t breathe. The only thing he remembered was Steve whispering into his ear, “Baby, it’s not your fault. It was an accident. It’s not your fault.”

—

Peter still toddled around, enthusiastic as ever. He just ran into things more. Everything was foam padded and carpets had been installed  _everywhere_  because he kept tripping. He didn’t fully understand what was wrong. He hated wearing his sunglasses, didn’t understand why he had to. It killed everyone to see scarred, vacant eyes, staring of at nothing. 

“Daddy!” he shouted. Tony showed up instantly. Since Peter couldn’t see to find him, everyone had gotten very used to running toward the sound of his voice. Tony ran to him and scooped him up.

“What’s wrong baby?” he asked, not looking at his son’s face. He couldn’t handle that blank expression.

“Why is it dark?”

“Baby, it’s dark because… I made it dark. And I’m so sorry sweetie. I love you so much. I wish I could make it so it wasn’t dark, baby. I would do anything.” Tony could cry as long as he didn’t make a sound. Peter couldn’t see his tear streaked face.

“Is it dark for you?”

“No.”

“Is it going to be dark forever?”

“I hope not. I’ll do everything I can to make it so it’s not dark anymore.”

“Okay daddy. But you know what?”

“What?”

“Even if it’s dark for the rest of forever, I’ll still love you. I’m not mad at you for making it dark.”

Tony just nodded, even though Peter couldn’t see. He didn’t trust his dumb voice to stay steady. He pressed a kiss to Peter’s temple. “I love you so much, Peter.”

Peter felt around Tony’s face for a little bit until he found his neck. He wrapped his arms around him, squeezing as tight as he could. “I love you, too, Daddy.”


	25. Where They Build a Pillow Fort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Steve and Tony build a pillow fort and shoot people with Nerf guns when they walk by

Tony packed the nerf gun full of foam bullets. They were inside of a pillow fortress that Peter had built (with some help from Tony and Steve). Steve was keeping a lookout over the barricade. Tony handed the gun to Peter.

“This is war, Pete. You understand?” Tony instructed in his best military voice. Peter gave a short nod of understanding. “Uncle Clint will show no mercy.”

“I’ll kick his butt.”

Steve turned away from the barricade and looked down at Peter. “Language, sweetheart.”

“Sorry papa.”

Steve didn’t have time to turn back around to continue his watch when a foam bullet bounced off his forehead. “Shit!”

“Language, sweetheart,” Peter echoed, cackling. He ran around the pillow fort to stand beside Clint. “You’ve been infulstrated—”

“Infiltrated,” Clint corrected.

“Infiltrated! Team Hawk for the win!” the two cackled and ran away, preparing for more battle.

Steve turned a disbelieving eye toward Tony. “Can you believe that? Our son just betrayed us!”

“I guess it’s you and me now, pal.” Tony kissed him before turning back. The two peered over the edge of the fort, awaiting another attack. Tony accidentally shot Bruce, who wasn’t even playing. For a split second, Tony panicked. But Bruce just smiled and tossed the bullet back in. That was suspicious.

Tony was beaned in the head with a bullet not two seconds later. “Be careful of distractions, Stark.” Both Tony and Steve looked around, trying to locate the voice and shoot Natasha, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“I think we’re really bad at this game,” Steve noted. Tony just nodded somberly.


	26. Where Tony Gets Steve an Anniversary Puppy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Tony and Steev get a puppy on their first anniversary

Tony didn’t believe in marriage, but he knew he wanted to be with Steve for the long run. They were coming up on their one year anniversary—first date, first kiss, first sex (it was a busy night)—and he felt that he had to do something spectacular.

It wasn’t the “being with someone for the rest of life” part of marriage that bothered him—he was totally okay with that and he  _wanted_  that with Steve—but the part about making a big spectacle about it that bothered him. Tony Stark knew how to throw a party. He knew how to be lavish and plan it out and make a huge deal for nothing. That was the problem: those parties were for nothing. What he had with Steve was special and he didn’t need to dress it up to prove that.

—

“I love you,” Tony mumbled, nipping at Steve’s neck. They were side by side on the couch and Steve smelled yummy.

“I love you, too,” Steve responded, somewhat confused. “What’s the occasion?”

“Nothing. Just wanted to let you know.”

“You’re not looking for sex?”

“I’m always looking for sex with you, sweetheart.”

“I’m flattered. But not now; it’s almost dinner.”

“I like you,” Tony said, “Can I keep you?”

“You can keep me as long as you want.”

“Promise?”

“I’m not going away until you want me to go away.”

“Well, I never want you to go away so I guess we’re stuck together for awhile.”

“I’m be okay with that.” Steve turned his head so he could kiss Tony properly.

—

Steve wanted kids. Tony couldn’t handle kids. Another human life in his hands? No thanks. Children were the biggest nope of his life. So even though he didn’t want a screaming infant around, he could probably deal with a little yapping puppy. A puppy that would grow up faster than a human, but they would still get the chance to raise something together.

He went down to the shelter; he knew Steve would like that better than a pure bread from the store. It was the time of day where the shelter let the dogs out to roam around in the back room. The lady at the front desk led him back to get a look at the dogs.

Immediately, a tiny blonde puppy walked up to him. She nuzzled her nose into his leg. He knelt down to her and grabbed her in his arms. “What’s her name?”

“Buttercup.”

“Her. I want her,” Tony announced. He didn’t need to meet any of the other dogs. Buttercup was his dog from the second he laid eyes on her and he knew that Steve would love her. He stood up, the tiny puppy in his arms.  _Buttercup_  he thought  _the symbol of our forever._  She even kind of looked like Steve.

—

Tony shook Steve awake. “Happy one year anniversary baby.” Buttercup had been happily living in the guest room since yesterday afternoon, but Tony was desperate to see Steve’s reaction. “I have a present for you.”

“Good morning blow job?” Steve asked hopefully, still half asleep.

“While normally I’d say yes, this present is time sensitive.” He brought Buttercup up and she started licking Steve’s face.

“And who are you?” he cooed, taking the puppy from Tony.

“Buttercup. I got her yesterday. I think she likes you.”

“And I like her. Yes I do. Yes I do.” He started nuzzling her nose. After some more nuzzling, a lot of baby talk, and some face licking, Steve turned to Tony. “This is… she is amazing, sweetheart. Thank you so much.”

“I wanted to give you something permanent. Something that was both of ours that would require us to be together for a long time to come.”

“She’s perfect. Did you name her?”

“No. She was already named at the shelter. She had been brought in from an abandoned home.”

“You got me a shelter dog? Somehow I’m more in love with you right now that I was fifteen seconds ago.”

“Yeah, well…” Tony shrugged. “I’m pretty awesome.”

“You’re very awesome. I kind of got you something that’s permanent, too. Please know that you can say no to it and I won’t be offended because I know it’s not really your thing—”

“What are you saying, Rogers?”

Steve took a deep breath and reached under his pillow for the little velvet box. “Please marry me?” Tony didn’t know how to respond. He didn’t believe in marriage, but he also hadn’t believed in love. Maybe he could warm up to the idea? And it wasn’t like he didn’t want to be with Steve for the rest of forever…

Steve took Tony’s hesitance as a no. “Oh god. I’m an idiot. I’m so sorry. Here, look, it’s going away.” He closed the box and shoved it back under his pillow. “Can we forget that happened?”

“No,” Tony shook his head. He leaned forward, mindful of Buttercup who was snuggled in the down comforter between them. He grabbed the box from under Steve’s pillow and opened it. It was beautiful and perfect and just like Steve. “Since you said please,” he joked, sliding the ring onto his finger. “I’d be honored.” He might not have believed in marriage—at least not yet—but he believed in Steve, and if Steve wanted this, then that was reason enough for Tony.


	27. Where Steve Gets Shot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Steve takes a bullet to the chest to protect Tony during a press conference and is severely injured, causing Tony to worry and realize that maybe liking or even loving Steve would be okay.
> 
> PROMPT: Steve gets really hurt and Tony can't get to him.

After the backlash for the events that took place in DC, Steve finally decided to hold a press conference to clear everything up. He was sick of filing through the internet and reading blatant lies told by respected news sources. Some blamed Sam for what happened, pinning him as an enemy. Some said that Natasha was a terrorist. No one blamed Steve, though, and it was mostly his fault. He couldn’t let his friends take the rap for it.

He was surprised that Tony of all people showed up. “Why’re you here?”

“Because press conferences suck and I figured you could use a friendly face. Someone who’s weathered these seas before.”

“Well, thank you, but I don’t think that’s ne—”

“Now, first off, I’m going to be standing behind you, just off to your right. That’s the side you always look to when you’re avoiding someone’s gaze.”

“Tony, that’s not—”

“Second, if you need help all you have to do is put your hand in your back pocket. I’m quick, I’ll think of something.”

“Tony, please—”

“ _Thirdly_ ,” Tony insisted, cutting Steve off, but at least acknowledging the fact that he was speaking. “Good luck. I, uh, believing in you. Enjoy your first press conference.”

“This isn’t my first time in front of people. I used to be a chorus girl, remember?” Steve gave a self deprecating chuckle.

“Ah yes, the Star Spangled Man With a Plan. I used to know the song and dance.”

“Really?”

“But this is different, Steve. You aren’t Captain America. You’re naked out there. You’re Steve Rogers. They’re talking to  _you._ ”

“I’ll be  _fine_. And… if I need help, back pocket, right?”

Tony nodded. They were ushered behind a podium. Everything was going fairly smoothly, Steve kept his hands firmly on the podium and not in his back pockets. Tony was glad that Steve was able to do this for himself, even though he had kind of wanted Steve to need him.

The movement was so small, but Tony caught it out of the corner of his eye. He didn’t have time to react before the gun was being pulled on him. He couldn’t move or speak and it was awful because he had no way to protect himself and no time to get out of the way. He braced himself, waiting to be shot and hopefully not die.

He squeezed his eyes shut when he heard the gun fire, but felt nothing. He opened his eyes to see that Steve had gotten in front of him. He crumpled to his knees, curling in on himself as blood began to leak through his shirt.

Tony rushed forward. “Christ, Steve. You really need to stop getting shot,” he half joked, trying to ease the tension while the paramedics were called. He pushed up Steve’s shirt to assess the damage. There was a new hole, a bit above the still fresh-pink scar that The Winter Solider—Bucky—had left. “You’re gonna be alright, okay? It didn’t go in too deep. No organs, I promise.” Tony was breathing heavier than Steve and touching everywhere that he could. “You’re okay, you’re okay, okay, you’re going to be okay.”

“Tony,” Steve chuckled. “I’ll be okay. I know that.”

“Just don’t fucking die. Not like this.”

“I’m not gonna die. Pinky promise.”

Tony wasn’t sure why, but that was the most reassuring thing he had heard in years. He linked his pinky with Steve’s and didn’t let go until the medics put him on a stretcher and took him to the hospital to take the bullet out of the already sealing wound.

—

Tony should have never unwound his finger from Steve’s. Those goddamned assholes who called themselves doctors didn’t know their way around Steve. Didn’t know how his body worked and healed and they ended up killing him. Tony didn’t know the details. Didn’t  _want_  to know the details. He just needed to get every single doctor in the city of New York fired and then he’d be able of rest peacefully.

Well. No, he wouldn’t. Because it was a bullet meant for Tony that had killed Steve. Why did it have to be Steve? Tony would have gladly died in his place—been the one to die like he was supposed to—but instead the world, once again, lost Steve Rogers.

“I love you, Steve.” He was sitting cross-legged on Steve’s bed, his eyes closed. “I really want you to know that. Don’t know if you can hear me—that afterlife stuff reeks of bullshit—but if you can I really want you to just… I want you to know that I love you. And I didn’t know it until you held my hand and promised you wouldn’t die. You broke your stupid promise you asshole. Why’d you have to break your promise?”

Tony would never forgive himself, but he would never forgive Steve, either.


	28. Where Peter's Principal is a Homophobe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: One-liner "Um, what?"
> 
> TW: homophobia

Steve called Tony as he was driving to Peter’s kindergarten. The principal had called, saying that he needed to speak to the parents of Peter Stark, and Steve was the only one home. “Hi sweetheart.”

“Hey pumpkin. What’s up? You having dirty thoughts about me while I’m away at work?” Tony hummed into the phone.

“Um, no.” Steve stated firmly. “It’s about Peter.”

Tony’s voice went from teasingly seductive to panicked. “What happened, is he alright?”

“He’s fine. The school assured me he’s not hurt.”

“The school?”

“They called me and said they needed to speak to the parents of Peter Stark. I don’t know what it’s about.”

Steve heard Tony push his chair away from the desk. “I’m coming now. Meet you there as soon as I can.”

“Tony, it’s not a big deal. They said one of us would suffice.”

“Nope. They said ‘parents’ so I’m coming down. See you soon.” Tony hung up the phone and drove down to Peter’s school. They met up outside and walked in together. When they entered the office, they saw Peter sitting on the tiny chair, his legs crossed at the ankle, feet dangling above the ground. He was staring at his hands in his lap, tears running down his face.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Steve soothed, kneeling down to be at eye level with his son. Peter just shook his head. Tony tried to put a finger under Peter’s chin to lift his face, but Peter pulled away.

“Ah, you’re both here. Wonderful,” the principle—Mr. Hedly—said in place of a greeting. He waved them in. Steve kissed Peter’s temple and Tony ruffled his hair before they walked in and sat down on too small chairs. They squirmed uncomfortably for a bit before decided that the chairs were death traps and they shouldn’t even bother.

“What’s this all about?” Tony asked. “Our son is a fucking angel—”

“Tony,” Steve reprimanded.

“—and I want to know what he did wrong.”

“You son hit another student.”

“Peter would never—” Tony shouted, starting to stand, but Steve put his hand in front of Tony to stop him.

“Was there any reason behind it?” Steve asked, calmer than his husband.

“Because of this drawing,” Hedly explained, producing a picture from behind his back. On it stood the three of them—Steve, Tony, and Peter. Steve and Tony were holding hands, while Steve held Peter in his other arm. It was obviously drawn by a five year old, but it wasn’t horrible.

“It’s just a fucking picture of his fami—”

“Tony, please calm down,” Steve once again reprimanded. Then, he turned towards the principal. “What about this drawing?”

“Another student asked why there were two men in the drawing—”

“Oh no,” Steve whispered, preparing for the outburst that was about to come from Tony.

“—and Peter punched him in the face.”

“I’m sure there was more to it,” Steve insisted.

“Not from the way his teacher explains it.”

“Well then maybe that  _teacher_  should—” Tony spat.

“We’ll sit down and talk to him and tell him that hitting is never okay,” Steve said quickly, cutting Tony off before he could say the teacher should shove some metaphorical thing up some metaphorical location that Tony probably didn’t mean metaphorically. 

The principal just rolled his eyes. “This lack of discipline for your child—”

“We’re going to take care of it, sir,” Steve assured before Tony had a chance to start yelling and/or swearing again. 

“I should have expected you to raise your child to be an animal.” Hedly shook his head, then began muttering under his breath. “Growing up in a family of homos—”

“Um. What?” Steve asked, a bite in his tone that hadn’t been there before. Tony grabbed at his hand. Normally it was Tony who flew off the handle but Steve had a certain…  _issue_  with this particular topic. “What did you just say.”

“I said nothing.”

Steve stood up and kicked the chair back. He wound up and got ready to punch the principal in the face, but Tony took his arm down. “Not worth it,” Tony insisted. Steve was breathing heavy, staring at the cowering man behind the desk.

“Let’s go,” Steve snarled, not removing his gaze from Hedly.

They left the office and tugged Peter behind them. The sooner they got out, the better chance they had at holding on to  _some_  respect. It was clear that Hedly was giving a warped, homophobic view of the situation. Tony trusted Peter not to lie, so once they were out in the parking lot, he kneeled down to Peter’s level.

“Peter,” he asked. Peter still wouldn’t meet his eyes. “Peter why did you hit that other boy?”

“He said it wasn’t natural to have two dads,” he mumbled. “Said the only reason I had you was because my real mom and dad didn’t love me.” Tony and Steve were silent for a minute. Tony rubbed a hand over his face while Steve ran his fingers though his hair. Peter squirmed in the silence. “Am I in a lot of trouble?” he asked, finally.

“Hitting is never okay, Peter, you know that,” Steve said in place of a real answer.

“I know.”

“But more importantly, you have to know that what that other kid said isn’t true, alright? We  _are_  your real family. Your pop and I love you more than anything in this whole world. We can’t speak for your birth parents because we never knew them. But they aren’t your real family, okay? We are.”

“I know,” Peter repeated. “I wish everyone knew that, though.”

Steve bent down and picked Peter up. “We do, too, but some people are very closed minded and they don’t understand that there are all sorts of different families and this one loves you very much.”

“How about we go ride the spiny ride at the amusement park?” Tony asked.

“The one that made you throw up?” Peter asked, excitedly.

Tony frowned. “Yeah, that one.”

“Awesome!”

“But when we get home you’re grounded.”

“Aw, c’mon!”


	29. Where Tony Gets a Handjob on the Bus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: "You had to have known this would end badly"

Steve’s phone vibrated and he pulled it out of his pocked.

_im horny  
_ _need sex  
_ _now plz_

He rolled his eyes.

_We’re on a bus, Tony.  
_ _You’re sitting right next to me, stop texting._

Tony smirked at that and started typing again.

_u texted me back  
_ _plz sex steve?  
_ _its a coach bus  
_ _bathroom_

“We’re not having this discussion now,” Steve said out loud, yanking Tony’s phone away from him. He put both of their phones into the pocket on the back of the seat in front of them.

“Then at least let me play 2048!” Tony whined.

In place of an answer, Steve stood up and opened the carrier above their seats. He fished around for a bit before producing a blanket. “Are you cold?” he asked Tony as he pulled it down.

“No, I—oh my god I’m freezing,” Tony answered, getting the hint. He squirmed in excitement as Steve laid the blanket of Tony’s lap, his face blank. He sat down next to Tony and pulled the blanket over his legs as well.

Steve unbuckled Tony’s belt, unbuttoned his pants, and slid down the zipper before reaching into his boxers and running his hand along his boyfriend’s dick. Tony let out a slight moan that he covered up with a cough. Steve glared at him. “If you can’t be quiet, this stops now.”

Tony bit his lip and nodded enthusiastically. Steve smirked and ran his thumb over the dead of Tony’s cock. “Jesus,” Tony whimpered as Steve continued to play with him. “Who’s idea was this?” Tony whined, looking at Steve.

“Yours,” Steve insisted, twisting his wrist. Tony slammed his head back on the headrest behind him. Steve drew it out, torturing Tony for over a half hour. Tony had behaved for the most part, but every once in awhile he’d swear, or jerk, or let out some sound that one does not normally made on a public bus.

With one final tug, Tony came, hissing, “Jesus fucking Christ,” and kicking the seat in front of him. The man in the seat turned around and glared at Tony. “Sorry,” he whimpered. Steve smirked and tucked Tony back into his pants. Steve looked around, panicked.

“Nothing to wipe my jizz on?” Tony asked, chuckling.

“You don’t have to be so crass about it,” Steve insisted.

“It was your idea,” Tony reminded, reaching for the napkins that were in the Subway bags crinkled at their feet.

“No it wasn’t,” Steve hissed, wiping his hand before stuffing the soiled napkins into the bad.

“I said sex in the bathroom. You decided to give me a fucking hand job in front of the whole world. I didn’t know you were so kinky. You had to have known this would end badly.”

“Shut up and kiss me dickface,” Steve snapped.

“Did you just call me—” Tony didn’t get to finish his protest before Steve started kissing him.


	30. Where Peter Asks "The Question"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: "Dad, where do babies come from?"

Peter was six when he asked. He had gone down to the gym to see Steve. He had a  _very_  important question to ask and he figured that his papa would know. “Papa?” Peter asked. Steve whipped around to see Peter.

“What sweetie?”

“So I was wondering, um…” Peter tapped the toe of his shoe on the floor, looking at the ground. “Where do babies come from?”

“Oh, uh…” Steve did want to do this alone, at least not now. This question would inevitably segue into “Why don’t I have a mommy” and Steve  _really_  wanted Tony to be there for that one. “Why don’t you go ask daddy?”

Peter frowned and went to search for Tony. He was was on the couch muttering to himself as he tried to get through some blueprints for another rebuild of the tower. “Dad, where do babies come from?”

“Ask pop,” he muttered, distracted by the holographs in front of him.

“He told me to ask you.”

Tony groaned and shut down what he was working on. He pulled Peter into his lap. “So, Pete.” Tony grunted. “You wanna know where babies come from, do you?”

“Yes please.”

“Well, you know how most of the kids at school have a mommy and a daddy, instead of two daddies?” Peter nodded solemnly. He had been teased more than once about his unique family situation (enhanced by a hoard of superheroes living in his house). “Well, a baby comes from a mommy and a daddy.”

“Where did I come from?” Peter asked. “I don’t have a mommy.”

Tony sighed. “Sometimes a mommy and a daddy can’t take care of their baby, so they give him or her to someone who can, who can’t have a baby on their own. Like your pop and I.” Peter started to sniffle. “What’s wrong, bud?” Tony asked.

“Do you and pop not love me as much as those other kids because I’m not really yours?”

“Oh no, baby, no,” Tony pulled his son in close, swaying them side to side. “Your pop and I love you more than anything in the whole universe. More than the moon and the stars and everything. We picked _you_  Peter. You were ours from the moment we laid eyes on you.”

Peter was silent for a moment, before; “If you and pop could have had a baby on your own, would you still have picked me?”

Tony felt his muscles tense, but tried to relax so Peter wouldn’t notice. The truth was, probably not. If they were able to have their own child, they wouldn’t have adopted. Tony couldn’t tell Peter that, though. And wasn’t their life better that they did? “I don’t know,” Tony admitted finally. “But let’s not think about what could have been. You’re here with us now, with your pop and I, and we love you more than the whole world. Okay?”

Peter nodded


	31. Where Tony Works at Starfucks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Coffee Shop AU with oodles of cliched fluff

Halfway through college and cut off from his parents riches, Tony Stark now donned an green apron with that dumb-ass mermaid on it. “Starfucks” he called it, because it wasn’t real coffee. It tasted like an asshole. But he couldn’t say that in front of the customers, so he smiled and whipped up crappuccinos, purposefully spelling hispters’ names wrong so that they couldn’t upload pictures of their cups to Instagram. 

He was perfectly content with being an asshole. He got his money when he graduated or when his parents died and he honestly didn’t care which came first. He didn’t have to pay for tuition, either, so he was only there for appearances and money for his… extracurricular activities.

The only reason he didn’t quit was because of Big, Blond, and Beautiful, who came in every afternoon around 2:30 and ordered a regular coffee with milk (not cream) and one packet of sweetener. He wasn’t into that “icy hot shot of pumpkin jizz” or whatever concoctions Tony was feeding to the other miscreants roaming around Starfucks.

“Hey there,” Tony smiled when the guy came up to pay. “I never caught your name.”

“I figured. You always just write ‘Call Me’ on my cups.”

“And I will continue to do so until you call me.”

The guy smirked, took his cup, and left. Tony crinkled up his nose as he watched him go.

—

_You’re super hella hot and I want to take you on a date but I can’t do that if you don’t_ **_call me._ **

Tony threw the sharpie on the counter and started mixing the drink before the guy even came into the shop. He came in at 2:36, his backpack lazily slung over one shoulder. Tony handed him the coffee and the guy paid him in exact change.

“Are you gonna call me?” Tony shouted after him.

“Maybe!”

That was the most Tony had gotten out of him, so he’d take it.

—

It was 8:30am and he was dead asleep, half falling out of his bed when his phone vibrated. He blindly slapped around in the bed for it. When he hit the button, the light burned his eyes. “Jesus Christ I need to fix that,” he muttered while he let his eyes focus. He didn’t recognize the number, but he opened the text anyway.

_Hey. It’s Steve._

Tony furrowed his brow. Against his better judgment, he wrote back.

_who the hell is steve, why is he texting me in the middle of the night, and i’m pretty sure he has the wrong number_

It didn’t take long for the response.

_You’ve called me Big, Blond, and Beautiful, clueless dork, fine piece of ass… shall I go on?_

_And it’s 8 in the morning…_

Tony sat up. “His name is Steve,” he whispered to himself. He saw that Steve had iMessage turned on and that’s all he needed to know. He clicked FaceTime before he even had a chance to think of what he was doing. While it rang, he turned on the lamp beside his bed.

The call was denied and he tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut. 

_In class. See you at Starfucks?_

Tony smiled at his phone.

_see you at starfucks._

—

Steve didn’t show up at 2:30 or anytime around that, so Tony was left to sadly stare at the drink he had mixed. As the day went on, he slowly took sips of it. He wondered if Steve’s mouth tasted like Starkfucks coffee. Just before the kiss would his breath smell like this? Even though it was shit coffee, he was pretty sure he’d like it on Steve.

He nursed the drink until closing time. Once everyone had left, he started to do a final buss of the shop. As always, he took out a half empty container of whipped cream and took a shot of it every few minutes, straight from the can.

He was wiping down the back counter when he heard that bell above the door ring. “We’re closed,” he shouted, annoyed as all hell that some dipshit couldn’t read the damn sign. He didn’t turn around as he squirted more whipped cream in his mouth.

“I know.”

Tony turned around. “Steve.”

“That’s my name.”

“You were supposed to come by earlier. I made your coffee.”

“I said I’d see you here, I never said when. You just assumed. Do you honestly think I came here for the coffee? You are aware that it sucks, right?”

Tony smiled. “So what kept you coming back?”

“Some guy kept telling me I’m ‘hella fine’ and stuff like that. I liked the attention.”

“And finally you went to him,” Tony smirked, playing with the nozzle on the can.

“Well, I figured he’d get bored of the chase.”

“I hear he’s a stubborn prick. I’m sure he would have kept at it if you hadn’t caved.”

“Well maybe my resolve isn’t as strong as I like to think it is,” Steve admitted. Tony leaned his head back and shot the whipped cream into his mouth. Before he even had a chance to think, Steve was kissing the corner of his mouth. “You missed a spot,” he murmured when he pulled back, licking the whipped cream off of his lips.

“You better be ready to get Starfucked if you keep that up.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of dinner and a mo—” Steve was cut off by Tony sticking the nozzle in Steve’s mouth and pushing down.

Tony kissed him before he even had a chance to swallow. “Sorry,” he said once he pulled back, wiping whipped cream off of his upper lip. “It looked like you missed a spot.” He returned the can to the cooler (fuck sanitation), tossed the dirty rag in the hamper (he’d rather not get fired because of breaking sanitation laws), and grabbed the building keys (he’d come in early and finish up with the sanitation). “Dinner and a movie sounds great.”


	32. Where Tony is Ticklish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Tony is ridiculously ticklish, and doesn't really mind. Steve enjoys taking advantage of this at every opportunity.

****

The couch was nice and long. Tony had his head resting on the arm while Steve sat on the other end. Tony’s feet were resting in his lap.

“Aren’t couples supposed to sit the other way?” Natasha asked, dropping into a seat across from them.

“What do you mean?” Tony asked, turning his head to the side, away from his tablet where he was working on jetpacks or some other thing Steve nodded along with but didn’t listen. When Tony got going, it didn’t matter if anyone was listening, and Steve didn’t understand half the stuff anyway.

“Isn’t your head supposed to be in his lap?”

“Maybe. But if that were the case, I wouldn’t be able to do this,” Steve smirked. He ran his fingers gently over the bottom of Tony’s feet. Tony bucked up, wiggling his feet and giggling. “Did you just giggle?”

“It was a manly giggle, I assure you.”

“Whatever you say,” Steve said again, tickling Tony’s foot again.

—

“Good morning sweetheart,” Steve greeted, rolling over to spoon against Tony.

“No,” Tony mumbled in his pillow. “Mornings aren’t good.”

“You. Don’t. Like. It. When. I. Do. This?” Steve asked, each word punctuated with a light kiss to Tony’s face. It was clear that Tony was fighting a smile.

“Not in the morning.” He rolled over stiffly and opened his eyes. “But I like waking up to your face.”

Steve kissed his nose and Tony made a face. “One other question.”

“Shoot.”

“Is this an effective and accepted way to get you up?”

“Is wh-AT! Stop, stop, stop,” Tony writhed while Steve tickled his sides.

Steve’s hands drew back immediately. “Do you really want me to stop, because I will.”

“No, I like it,” Tony pouted.

“Then don’t tell me to stop!”

Tony didn’t get to respond before Steve was tickling him mercilessly again. He had to bite his tongue from begging Steve to stop, because he didn’t really want him to.

—

Word had gotten out.  **Tony Stark Is Ticklish As Fuck**. There were flyers hanging around the inside of the tower, courtesy of Clint. Now it was a game of who could get him to squirm first. It was simple things, too. If Bruce was walking into the kitchen, he might gently run his fingers up Tony’s spine. Clint sometimes crawled under the table to get at his feet (Tony kicked him in the face twice, but Clint said it was worth it). Natasha was a bit more blunt with her attempts, jumping out at Tony and pinning him down before running her fingers over every part of available skin.

“I hate you,” Tony mumbled to Steve as he crawled into bed.

“Why?”

“Everyone’s tickling me. You told them.”

“Oops.”

“You’re a jerk.”

“And you love me for it.”

“I do.” Tony rolled around in the blankets, trying to get comfortable. When it didn’t work, he turned to Steve. “You know, there’s been something I’ve been meaning to ask you. I don’t know how it didn’t come up until now.”

“What is it?”

“Are  _you_  ticklish?” Tony didn’t wait for an answer. He went straight for the kill, aiming for Steve’s sides. Steve started kicking around and squirming.

On this was going to be fun.


	33. Where Steve Trolls in his Birthday Suit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Steve is really comfortable with his body, and since he understands most of the 21st century stuff, he felt it's okay to be naked in his apartment. So one day, he knew the tower would be empty, he just proceeded to do his daily things naked and then just starts touching himself in a relaxing way on the living room couch and Tony just appeared unannounced

Steve was beautiful and he knew it. He wasn’t ashamed of his body. He didn’t blush when people told him that he was handsome. Despite what everyone seemed to believe, he was actually a bit conceded about it. He got this body and no one else did. He loved the way he looked. The way  _all_  of him looked.

JARVIS could turn the windows into two way mirrors. He could lock the doors. He could provide a sanctuary for Steve and Steve was more than happy to take advantage of this freedom. On a day like today—dismal, rainy,  _blah_ —he’d stay on his floor of Avengers Tower (a name Tony had begrudgingly changed from Stark Tower) and strip naked.

When he was naked, he felt free. He was nothing but himself. He wasn’t a symbol or a hero or any of the other stuff that came along with being Captain America. He was Steve Rogers, a twenty-five year old man in his apartment, naked. It was his personal space and he could do whatever the hell he wanted with it.

He stood by the window, mirrored from the outside so no one could see, watching as the rain hit the glass. It was pouring, each drop fanning out from it’s original landing point before running in thick streams down towards the ground. It was peaceful in a way that Steve couldn’t describe.

“JARVIS?”

“Yes, Captain?” the AI responded.

“I wanna hear the rain.”

“Of course, Captain.” Instantly the silence of the room was filled with the pounding of the rain. Steve closed his eyes and leaned his head back. Perfect.

He continued around his apartment, still buck naked. He vacuumed the already clean floors, dusted the already clean surfaces, scrubbed the already clean kitchen. It wasn’t that he was overly clean, it was just something to do on this blah day. He wasn’t in the mood to be clothed, so he couldn’t leave. Cleaning gave him something to do during this blah day

However, his floor could only have so much cleaning before it looked  _too_  clean. As if someone didn’t live in it. So, as soon as he was done scrubbing, he went around and dirtied it. Not making it into a disaster, just making it looked like someone lived there. He put a smudge of flower on the counter, evidence of the brownies he had made the night before (which he took out of the cupboard and put onto a decorate plate in the middle of the island. He didn’t get many visitors, but if he did, he didn’t want them to think he was a robot.

When he was  _finally_  satisfied with the way his home looked, he sat himself down on the couch. He reached for some lotion and decided to have a little fun with himself. He had no problem jacking off on his own couch. He was twenty-five fucking years old, of course he was horny.

Like, always.

He’d barely started when he heard a shout. “OO-kay, I’ll come back.” Steve whipped his head around to see Tony standing at the edge of the room, a hand thrown over his eyes.

“What are you doing here?” Steve demanded, his tone livid. This was  _his_  floor.  _His_  apartment.  _His_ home. He had every right to be alone in it.

“Since it’s all shitty outside the rest of us were watching a move and I thought I’d come ask you to join us but I guess you are otherwise occupied so I’m just gonna go,” Tony babbled. He turned to leave, his hand still covering his eyes. He bumped into a wall. “I knew that was there.”

Steve didn’t have any clothes and he didn’t feel like chasing after the man ass naked with an erection, so he grabbed the throw blanket at the edge of the couch and wrapped it around his waist. “Tony, wait!” He caught up quickly. Tony still had his hand clamped over his eyes, his other hand extended so he wouldn’t walk into anything else.

“Are you covered?” he asked awkwardly.

“Yes.”

“Like, totally?”

“I have a blanket around my waist.”

Tony gave a defeated sigh. “I guess that’s good enough,” he muttered, moving his hand down. “What’s up? Oh, yeah, I know what’s up.” He winked, staring at Steve’s crotch. Tony was completely at ease now that Steve’s junk wasn’t actually hanging out.

“You just walked into a wall trying not to look at it,” Steve said, annoyed.

“Yeah, but now that I don’t have to look at it, I kind of want to.” Steve dropped the towel. “Jesus Christ, Rogers, cover yourself up!”

“You just…” Steve didn’t feel like finishing the sentence, so he bent down and once again gathered the towel around himself, rolling his eyes.

“Did you put it away?”

“Yes, Tony. I put it away.”

Tony opened his eyes. “Shame.”

“What do you want. I’m busy.”

Tony smirked. “Oh yes, I can tell.”

“Please stop.”

“What?” Tony asked. He wasn’t playing at innocence. Steve could tell that he honestly didn’t know that he was doing something wrong. For some reason, that sort of excused him in Steve’s mind.

Sort of.

A little bit.

“This is my home. I can be naked if I want.”

“So this is a regular occurrence?” Tony asked.

“Yes,” Steve admitted. “When I am alone, I like to walk around naked. I don’t know why. I just do. How did you even get up here? I had JARVIS lock everything down.”

“Yeah, but I have ways of doing things, considering I designed JARVIS and built this building. I have overrides for everything.” Tony shrugged as if it wasn’t a total invasion of privacy. Maybe to him, it wasn’t. Steve was still trying to figure out how Tony Stark ticked. “And I’m gonna let you in on a little secret no one knows but Pepper.”

“And what’s that?” Steve asked, rolling his eyes. He wasn’t in the mood for secrets, but if it got rid of Tony…

“I walk around the penthouse naked. Used to walk around the entire Malibu mansion, to be honest. _Stark_  naked.”

“You didn’t just say that.”

“Oh, but I did.”

“They’re going to wonder where you are,” Steve attempted.

“Nah. There was no movie. I just wanted to come say hi.”

“Well… hi.” Steve awkwardly waved with the hand that wasn’t holding the blanket up.

“You know, I could help you with that.” Tony gestured in the general direction of Steve’s crotch. “Feels better when you don’t have to do it yourself.”

“Nah, I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“You covered your face the two times I had it out, so I figure you’re not gonna want to see it again.”

“Give me one more try.”

Steve rolled his eyes and once again dropped the blanket. Tony stared at it for as long as he could before averting his eyes to look at Steve’s face. “You have a beautiful shlong my dear friend, but seeing as you are my dear friend, I don’t think I’m going to touch it.”

“We’re dear friends?”

Tony shrugged noncommittally. “We could be, I guess. Sort of.”

“Or you could suck my dick and we could start being dear friends  _after_.”

“Works for me.”


	34. Where Peter Dies in Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Steve and Tony lose Peter in winter and Tony locks himself up in the workshop. After the funeral, Steve approaches the workshop "Tony, I know you're in there. People are asking where you've been. They say have courage and I'm trying. I'm right out here for you. Just let me in. We only have each other. It's just you and me. What are we gonna do?" Steve cries while he slides down the door. "Do you wanna build a snowman?"
> 
> MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH

“Daddy! Daddy! Papa! Papa!” Peter jumped on their bed. The two men groaned and rolled onto their backs, taking in their five-year-old son’s excited bouncing.

“What is it, sweetheart?” Tony asked, his voice groggy.

“It  _snoooooooowed!_ ” Peter flopped on his back between him. “The ground is covered. It’s  _everywhere_.”

“That’s exciting, Pete.” Steve smiled, pulling their son in for a kiss. Peter squirmed away, attempting to get closer to Tony. Steve let go just as Tony grabbed Peter and started kissing his cheeks.

“Gross!” Peter giggled. Peter didn’t want it to stop and Steve and Tony knew it, so they continued to pass him back and forth, kissing him until he was giggled out. When they were done, he scrambled onto Steve’s chest. “Papa,” he bounced up and down. “Papa papa papa papa papa papa!”

“Yes yes yes yes yes yes?”

“Do you wanna build a snowman?” Steve tensed beneath him. “Papa?”

Tony gave a sad smile and pulled Peter off of Steve. Steve was never the one who went sledding or built snowmen and he was especially opposed to ice skating. Even though they usually spent a week or so in Tony’s old cabin home every winter (which could very loosely be called a cabin because it was the size of a normal person’s home) Steve spent that time inside. It was okay and Tony understood because Steve was on pool duty in the summer. Tony didn’t do large bodies of water. He had trouble in the bathtub for fuck’s sake.

“How about me and you go build a snowman?” Tony asked.

Peter nodded sullenly. He didn’t quite understand yet and Steve and Tony didn’t know how to explain it. They both knew that Peter would almost totally forget about it as soon as he was bundled in his snow gear, so they weren’t too worried.

Steve watched from the window as Tony and Peter ran around, throwing snowballs and building their snowman.

When they came in, faces flushed from the cold, hair sicking up from the moisture, Steve knelt down and started helping Peter undress. “Did you have fun?”

“I saw you watching,” Peter stated as Steve pulled his mittens off.

“Did you?”

“Yeah. Why didn’t you come play?”

Steve looked up at Tony and Tony looked back at him with sad eyes. “I don’t think you can understand right now, Pete.”

“Will you  _ever_  build a snowman with me?”

“I hope someday we can build a whole snow-family,” Steve answered earnestly.

“With a aunt Natasha snowman and a uncle Bruce snowman and a uncle Clint snowman and a uncle Thor snowman and a you snowman and a daddy snowman and a me snowman?”

Steve smiled as he unzipped Peter’s coat. “I hope that someday we can do just that.”

—

Two more winters came and went, two more cabin visits, two more trips without the snowman family Steve had promised. Peter was eight and they were coming up on the third year since Steve made his promise.

“I think I’m going to try this year,” Steve said as he and Tony packed their things.

“You don’t have to, sweetheart. Peter understands.”

“I know he does. I just want to try. If I can’t do it, I’ll go in. I just… don’t want to spend another week looking out at you two having so much fun.”

Tony walked up behind Steve and wrapped his arms around his waist. “I’m proud of you for trying, but don’t do anything you don’t think you can handle,” he mumbled into Steve’s back. 

Steve took Tony’s hand in his and brought it to his lips. “I love you.”

—

Clint was  _crying_  when Steve and Tony emerged from their bedroom. They were so stunned at what they were witnessing that it didn’t occur to them to comfort him until he was running up to them and kneeling in front of them. “I’msosorryIdon’tdeserveyouasfriendsIdeservetodie,” he gasped out in one breath.

“Calm down, Barton. What’d you do this time? Did you break the toaster or something?” Tony tried to play it lightly, but seeing the master assassin cry chilled him to the bone. Clint shook his head.

“He—he ran across the street.”

“ _Who_  ran across the street?” Steve thundered, grabbing Clint by the shirt and pulling him up so they were eye to eye.

“Peter. Nat and I took him out for hot cider before you guys left because we like to do that, you know how we like to do that, and… I don’t know. He saw  _something_  and decided to run across the street and was—” Clint choked on his words.

“ _AND?_ ” Tony shouted. “Are you telling us that, while in your care, our son—”

“Was hit by a taxi.”

“And?” Steve asked, his voice no longer holding the strength it had before.

“Killed,” Clint whispered. Steve dropped Clint’s shirt. He was boneless. Tony crumpled into him and they stood there, staring at nothing. Finally, there was enough air in the room to breathe, and they pulled apart.

“Where?” Tony asked.

“Just outside the tower.”

Steve and Tony laced their fingers together and started toward the elevator. With any luck, there wasn’t any paparazzi yet. In reality, it was probably all over the internet already.

—

Tony disappeared. He didn’t leave his workshop ever. He didn’t go to the funeral where the too small coffin stayed closed because no one wants to see a motionless, mutilated eight-year-old. He wasn’t there as snow fell on the graveyard, Steve too numb to feel any fear. He wasn’t there through any of it, and Steve didn’t blame him one bit.

When he got home, he took the stairs up to Tony’s workshop. Stairs took longer and gave him longer to sort through what he was going to say. When he got there, the glass was blacked out. Steve didn’t know why he expected anything else.

In spite of himself, he knocked on the glass. “Tony?” he breathed. “Please… I know you’re in there. People are asking where you’ve been. They say have courage and…” he took in a shaky breath. “I’m _trying_  to. I’m right out here for you. Just… let me in.” He leaned his forehead against the glass. “We only have each other, it’s just you and me. What are we gonna do?” He was full on crying by the time he turned his back to the door and slid down to the floor. “Do you wanna build a snowman?” he rasped out, his voice weak. He leaned his head back against the glass.


	35. Where The Hellicarrier's Targets Succeed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: If you've seen TWS, here's a little prompt for you: Okay, well, that part when Stark Tower where Tony is inhabiting was one of the hellicarrier target spots... Well, let's just say Steve wasn't able to stop said hellicarrier from Stark Tower b/c he had his dramatic little fall (a/n favorite part of a prompt ever) a little earlier than expected and when he wakes up he finds the hellicarrier succeeded in it's target. What happens to Tony is entirely up to you. Angst or happiness it's all good.
> 
> MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH

“Come live with me,” Tony said one morning. Steve had come back from his run to find Tony already awake. Steve started making eggs while Tony made himself coffee and poured Steve a glass of orange juice. He dropped the bomb as simply as if he was asking Steve if he wanted pulp or no pulp (he only asked once, in the beginning, and the fact that Tony remembered gave Steve a warm feeling in his belly that he couldn’t explain).

“That’s a big—do you think we’re there yet?” Steve asked, stirring the eggs in the pan.

“Well, you don’t have to live  _with me_. You don’t have to stay on my floor or in my room or anything. Just… the Tower is really empty and I changed the name and I build you a whole floor and—”

“You built me a whole floor?” Steve asked. He put the finished eggs into a bowl and took two plates out of the cabinet, setting one in front of Tony and taking the stool across from him.

“Well… I built everyone a floor. You and Banner and Romanoff and—”

“I get it,” Steve smiled. “I just don’t think I’m ready to live with you, yet.”

Steve saw Tony try to hide his disappointment but he pretended not to notice because he knew Tony didn’t want him to. “I still love you, though.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony mumbled, shoving a fork-full of eggs in his mouth.

Steve put his finger under Tony’s chin, tipping his head up. “I do love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“I have to go to DC for a bit. I have a place down there. It won’t be long, but I have a few things Nick needs me to take care of.”

“What’s with my partners referring to SHIELD agents by their first name? Pepper was always calling Coulson ‘Phil’ and now Fury is ‘Nick’.”

“Not too long ago you called me Rogers and I called you Stark,” Steve pointed out.

“That was two years ago. But, I guess two years seems like a heartbeat to an old man like you.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I’m only twenty-five, Tony.”

“God, now I feel like I’m robbing the cradle.”

“I can be ninety-five if you want.”

“That’s weirder.”

“That’s what I thought.” Steve smiled and kissed Tony’s nose. Tony scrunched his face up. “I’ll be back soon.”

“I’ll spend every second you’re gone splayed naked on my bed, eagerly awaiting your return.”

“And that’s how I’m going to leave you,” Steve grinned, roughly picking Tony up. Tony responded by wrapped his legs around Steve’s waist as they navigated them to the bedroom.

—

The first thing Steve thought of when he came out of his drugged haze was Tony. He struggled to look around the room, his eyes not focusing on anything properly. There was music he didn’t recognize and a man on his right that he vaguely recalled. After a few moments, his mind came around and he remembered the man as Sam.

“On your left,” he mumbled, the words sounding more like a groan. Sam smiled at him, the little gap between his front teeth showing. “What happened?”

“I’m a little fuzzy on the details, but I’m pretty sure you fell out of the hellicarrier. I don’t know how, but you managed to get on the bank of the Potomac. You were half dead but—”

“Please tell me no body kissed me.”  _Oh Tony_ , he thought,  _where are you?_

“No, nobody… what?”

“Nothing. Did… I didn’t make it in time, did I?”

Sam frowned, lowering his book. Sam didn’t have to open his mouth for Steve to know that he had been too late. He had failed. Twenty million people were going to die—were probably already dead—because of him. He wished he hadn’t been fished out. He wished he had died again, because it seemed that no matter how many times he sacrificed himself, he was never able to accomplish anything.

“Did you,” Steve sighed, not sure how to phrase the question. “Did you lose anyone?”

“Nobody around here for me to lose.”

“Ha, me neither.”

Sam’s eyes looked sad. “New York was in range.”

“Everyone I knew in New Y—”  _No_. “ork is long dead.” His throat was dry as he tried to get out the last half of the sentence. Sam noticed and handed him some water. He sipped it slowly so as not to have to continue on with the conversation.

“It’s okay. You’ve woken up a couple of times and asked about him.”

“I did?”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re sor—” Steve throat was dry again and he had to take another sip. Sorry meant that Tony was gone. Tony, who had moved out to New York because he had no where else to go. Who lived in that tower alone because Steve never spent more than one night at a time. Who was so good to Steve. Who Steve could have saved but didn’t.

“Is he… do they _know_  that he’s…?” Steve couldn’t seem to finish a sentence.

“They’re not sure, but the Tower went down and he was in it.”

“There’s no body because it’d be buried in the rubble or scorched.” Steve closed his eyes and pressed the morphine button, hoping it would numb into a sleep. He hadn’t been able to catch Bucky. He hadn’t been able to defeat Hydra. Now, he hadn’t been able to save the man he loved. He would go to New York as soon as he got out of the hospital. He would help sift through the rubble. He would hold onto the shred of hope that Tony was alive. That he had gotten out on time.

—

Tony hadn’t gotten out in time. Steve hadn’t been the one to find the scorched body, thankfully. He did sit by it and cry while they waiting for an ambulance to come and collect the billionaire. He was almost indistinguishable, but JARVIS, who was available on a select few phones (Rhodey, Steve, and Pepper), confirmed that Tony had been the only person in the tower. 

It was a few weeks before Steve finally got around to buying a new phone. His had been lost somewhere along the way. He was surprised how used to it he had become—he almost felt like he _needed_  it. When he turned it on, JARVIS greeted him.

“ _Hello Captain_ ,” the AI said.

“Hey JARVIS,” Steve responded somberly. The voice was just a reminder of the ghost Tony had become. He thought about turning JARVIS off and having a regular phone like everyone else, but he liked having this little part of Tony with him.

“ _You have a message,_ ” JARVIS said.

“Um… okay. Play it,” he said, putting the phone to his ear.

_“Hey there sweetheart. I… uh… just wanted to say that I love you. I’m watching the news and it looks like some serious shit is going on down there in DC. I—I’m sorry I don’t have any suits to come help. But I’m here, waiting for you to come back. Can’t wait to see you soon. I might not be naked, but I’ll be waiting with a hug and a kiss and I hope that’s good enough. Love you.”_

Steve was stopped dead on the New York City sidewalk, bawling his eyes out. His hand was shaking as he took the phone away from his ear and pressed the button to save the message.

“Love you, too. I’m so, so sorry.”


	36. Where I Did a Tumblr meme ~3 sentence fics~

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MEME: Send me a ship, send me an AU setting, I’ll write you a three sentence fic

PROMPT: Stony college au

As freshman they were roommates, sophomores they were friends, as juniors they were lovers, as seniors it was The End.

"I love you, Steve," Tony gasped through tears, the engagement ring on his finger creating a hollow clunk as he placed it on the coffin. "Goodbye."

* * *

PROMPT: Stony, Kindergarten au

Steve toddled over to Tony and sat down at the next easel over.

"Arts n craf’s is my fav’rit part of da day," Steve explained, "an’ I’m gonna draw you ‘cause you’re my other fav’rit part of da day."

Tony thought about it for a moment, nodded, and said, “You’re my fav’rit part of da day, too”

* * *

PROMPT: Stony au where they aren't superheroes

And so the astronaut fell in love with the deep sea diver.

"We explore the farthest depths and highest points this planet has to offer, but I promise to always meet you here on the solid land of earth," Steve vowed, holding his soon-to-be-husband’s hand at the alter.

"That is the cheesiest and most perfect thing anyone has ever said to me and I love you for it so much," Tony beamed.

* * *

PROMPT: First meeting at Comic Con AU No super powers! Bonus points for the costumes invoking fanservice and them getting together

Steve and Tony had talked online forever—something their friends ridiculed them for relentlessly—and today was the day they’d finally meet (at Comic Con, no less).

Steve had sent Tony an email saying  _I’ll be the one dressed like Castiel_. There were dozens of Castiels walking around; Tony Stark had his work cut out for him.

* * *

PROMPT: Stony Au bikersteve and mechanic tony

"Are you fucking finished or what," Steve demanded, storming into Tony’s shop.

Tony looked up and rolled his eyes about the mega douche wearing leather in 80 degree weather. “It’s a good think I love you because you are kind of a piece of shit.”

* * *

 

PROMPT: Stony: no-powers AU where one saves the other from a mugging/attack.

"Get your hands off of him or I’ll shove my foot so hard up your ass you’ll taste your own shit," Tony threatened as he walked into the back ally to see some asshole beating up a kid half his size.

The scrawny boy accepted the hand Tony offered and said, “Before he went off to war, it was my friend Bucky’s job to get me out of these scraps. Oh, I’m Steve, by the way.”

* * *

PROMPT: Stony Gatsby AU (or just general 1920s) ^_^

"I’ve gotten all these things for you and now you just want to run away," Tony said, staring at the immaculate post-party disaster that was his home—glimmering streamers, confetti, broken glass, and spilled liquor—before looking over to Steve.

"Tony, I love you so much, but we can’t repeat the past."

Tony turned to Steve, a confused look on his face, and said, “Why of course you can.”

* * *

PROMPT: MERMEN STONY

And when Tony went up where they walk, up where they run, up where they stay all day in the sun, he met Steve—a prince with two legs—and no matter how hard he fought, he couldn’t stay on land, so he kissed Steve goodbye and said, “I love you.”

When Tony returned home, Prince Steve was waiting for him with a merman tail to match Tony’s. “You didn’t think I’d let that be the end, did you?”

 

 


	37. Where Clint Runs a Gossip Blog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU ASK MEME #13: Journalist, news blogger, gossip blogger, etc. AU

Steve was buying a pretzel from a vender when a man shouting into his cellphone walked past him.

"No, Pepper, I do  _not_  have the files. That’s why I have you!”

The crosswalk sign had the flashing hand, but the man kept walking. The traffic light turned green. Cars started moving. Steve threw his pretzel to the ground, ran to the man on the phone, and yanked him out of traffic just as he was about to be hit by an angry taxi driver.

"What the hell was that?" Steve asked. The man just looked at him funny. There was a woman on the other side of the phone conversation, but Steve couldn’t make out what she was saying.

"No, Pep. Some muscly dude just saved me from getting hit by a car."

“ _What?_ " she screamed loudly enough for Steve to hear.

"Look, I’ll call you back. I have to thank my savior." He hung up without another word. "You have a name, blondie?"

"Uh, yeah. Steve."

"Well hello Steve. I’m Tony," Tony said it as if that was supposed to mean something to Steve. "Tony Stark?" he repeated.

"Doesn’t ring a bell," Steve said with a shrug. Was he supposed to care about this guy? Ug, Steve hated people who felt entitled.

Tony leaned up on his toes and pressed his lips to Steve’s. Steve was taken aback, not sure how to respond to that. How  _do_  you respond to a random stranger kissing you in the middle of street? “Look me up. It’s spelled like it sounds.”

—

"Clint!" Steve shouted, running into his apartment. He found Clint predictably sitting at his laptop. Clint didn’t really have a life. He spent 99% of his time on the computer, updating his stupid celebrity gossip blog. The other 1% of his time was spent eating and sleeping.

"Y _eeeeessss_ ,” Clint droned out.

"What can you tell me about Tony Stark?"

"Tony Stark? Well, I can tell you a lot about Tony Stark. Come. Sit." He patted the couch next to him. On the screen he had a half finished post about Paris Hilton, but he quickly minimized the window and opened a new tab. He went to his blog and searched  _Tony Stark._  Dozens of articles popped up.

"Jesus, you’re really organized with this thing," Steve mused.

"It’s my life blood," Clint said nonchalantly. Steve wondered for a moment how Clint made money. Clint had moved in with Steve and Natasha a while back, and Steve had never seen him leave for work.

"May I?" Steve asked, gesturing to the laptop.

"Go forth, my child," Clint said, handing it to Steve.

Steve spent the rest of the night reading everything Clint had written about Tony over the years. When he was done, he spent hours on Google. He didn’t realize he had stayed up all night, but suddenly there was light peeking in through the windows. Sunrise?

"Baby boy all grown up," Clint cooed, walking into the living room where Steve still sat, his eyes crusty from a night staring at a screen. "Did you spend the whole time looking at shit about Tony?"

"Maybe," Steve shrugged.

"Why the sudden interest?"

Steve debated lying, but figured there was no point. “Off the record?”

"Sure."

"I was eating a pretzel yesterday and I see this person walk out into traffic because he wasn’t paying attention, so I yanked him back and it was Tony Stark. He acted appalled that I didn’t know who he was, then he kissed me and told me to look him up."

For the first time Steve could remember, Clint looked surprised. “Well, you’re going to need a phone number.”

"You have his  _phone number_?” Steve gasped.

"No, but I’ll get it."

—

It took two weeks, but Steve now had a small slip of paper with ten digits on it. He took a deep breath and typed the number into his phone. He looked back and forth between the number and the screen for over a minute, making sure he had the right number typed in.

He took a deep breath and hit call.

"Hello?" Tony answered after half of a ring.

"Uh, hi. This is Steve. The guy who saved you."

"Muscles?"

"Uh, yeah. Muscles." Steve wasn’t a big fan of that being his identifier, but it was, so there was nothing he could do about it. "I, uh, looked you up."

“ _Aaaaaand?_ " Tony asked.

"Do you maybe wanna go out sometime?" Steve hated that it had come out of his mouth so quickly. It was like word vomit.

"I thought you’d never ask."


	38. Where Steve is Getting Fat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Chubby!Steve prompt. Steve finds that he REALLY likes all the new food he's been trying. He can't get enough. Even the serum isn't able to keep all of it from turning into a bit of pudge <3 Tony loves it!

“You’re getting pudgy,” Tony noted, poking Steve’s belly. The two were sprawled on the couch, limbs tangled together and falling over the edges. Steve was currently working his way through a dozen Boston Cream donuts.

“I’m not,” Steve gasped, looking down. He couldn’t see his stomach, but he could see Tony’s grinning face.

“There’s nothing wrong with a little bit of pudge, sweetheart,” Tony assured.

“I’ve never had pudge before,” Steve said, poking at his belly. Sure enough there was tiny bit of give. “How do I fix it?” he asked.

“Well, your metabolism will do most of the work, but eating a dozen donuts in one sitting isn’t helping. Neither is the whole pizza I watched you eat earlier. Or the pound of pasta you had for lunch. Or the breakfast buffet you whipped yourself up this morning. Or—”

“I get it, Tony. I need to stop eating.”

“Don’t stop  _eating._  Jesus, and you say  _I’m_  the melodramatic one. I’m just saying, if you want to lose weight, try eating only three meals a day. Three properly portioned meals.”

—

“Tony have you ever tried a Big Mac?” Steve demanded into the phone as soon as Tony answered.

“ _Yes. I’ve had my fair share._ ”

“And you didn’t tell me about them?” Steve asked, his mouth full.

“ _I guess, since they’ve been around forever, I—_ ”

“They have not been around forever, Tony!”

Steve could practically hear Tony rolling his eyes. “ _Steve. I thought you wanted to lose weight._ ” When Steve didn’t respond, Tony sighed. “ _How many have you had?_ ”

“Eleven?”

“ _ELEVEN? Jesus Steve, a normal person would have a heart attack if they ate eleven Big Macs in one sitting._ If _they didn’t explode first. Jesus Christ, where are you?_ ”

“Times Square?”

“ _You went to one of the most trafficked McDonalds in the world because you wanted to try a Big Mac?_ ”

“Please don’t yell at me.”

“ _I’m coming now and I’m picking you up and we’re flying out of there and don’t you dare order another one._ ”

—

Steve sat down on the couch while Tony paced back and forth in front of him. “It’s not that you’re eating so much, because I told you that I’m okay with your pudge. It’s that you lied to me.”

“Oh please, like you’ve never lied to me?” Steve asked.

“I don’t want to fight over this, Steve. You set this goal for yourself. You have to follow through on it. Or don’t, I don’t care. But don’t lie to me. I was so proud of you.”

Steve looked at his feet, ashamed. “I know. It’s just… it’s all so good.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want to stop.”

“I know.” Tony sat down next to Steve. “But you don’t want to end up on  _My 600lb Life_.”

“That’s a thing?”

“It’s a scary thing.”

Steve shuddered. “Yikes.”

“Yeah, yikes. But sweetheart, you don’t have to cut junk food out totally. Just, next time, order one Big Mac instead of eleven. Can you do that?”

“Since when are you the one who makes the rational and reasonable decisions?”

“I’m like a dresser.”

“What?” Steve asked.

“There are many drawers in me that hold different things.”

“Yeah, uh, horrible analogy.”

“Fine. I’m like an onion.”

“Onion?”

Tony groaned. “I have layers.”

Steve’s brow furrowed. “Is that a reference?”

Tony let out a barking laugh. “JARVIS, queue up  _Shrek._  Steve needs a movication.”


	39. Where Steve is Bisexual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Prompt that isn't necissarily Stony, but could be I guess? Bisexual Steve has kind of become an accepted thing recently and I really want a story about him coming out to the Avengers because that would probably be really scary to him after what he saw in the 30s/40s

Steve had always known that he was attracted to both men and women and it had never bothered him much. Only one person in the world knew, and that was Bucky, but Bucky didn’t even know who he was anymore, let alone Steve’s deepest, darkest secret.

Coming out to Bucky had been the hardest thing he ever had to do, save for losing him. Adjusting to the twenty-first century was difficult, but it kept him busy. He didn’t have time to wallow in how lonely he was. One thing he found particularly interesting was the new mentality around homosexuality. And bisexuality. And pansexuality. And a whole slew of [insert word here]-sexuality.

Just because a lot of people had come around didn’t mean the world wasn’t still full of bigots.

He just hoped his friends weren’t like that. If they were, he was going to have to live with a tower full of people who disliked him. A lot.

He decided that he wanted to do it all at once. Cut the snake off at the head or whatever that saying was. He was scared in a way he never had been before and he needed to get it over with. Like, right now. Because he had called everyone into the room. To tell them. And… go. Lights, camera, action.

“So, uh, yeah,” he began.

“Eloquent,” Tony muttered, not looking up from his phone. Pepper ripped it out of his hands and put it on the table beside her.

“Please, Steve, continue.”

“Right, so… there’s something that I’ve known for awhile, but I’ve been trying to figure out the right way to tell everyone.”

“Oh god, you’re in love with me!” Clint pretended to swoon. Natasha punched him in the arm and he winced.

“No, um, well that’s kind of a good segue I suppose, because—”

“You’re gay,” Tony said, unfazed. “That’s what you’re trying to tell us, right? As if it wasn’t obvious.”

“Well, uh, bisexual, actually.” Steve blushed. He had kind of wanted to do this on his own terms, but so what. It was out in the open now, so why should it matter how it got there? “You don’t all hate me, do you?” Steve asked, his voice weak.

Everyone started laughing. “This group of people is a mess of sexual orientation,” Natasha explained. “It doesn’t really matter in this day and age. Well, to some people it does, but labels suck, so basically if you like it, you like it. Doesn’t matter to us.”

“So, have you all, uh, been with—”

“Oh  _fuck yes_ ,” Tony shouted. “I love dick.”

“Too much information,” Clint shouted.

“Go whine to Coulson you domesticated freak,” Tony shot back.

“You and Coulson?” Steve asked.

“Jesus, where have you been?” Natasha asked.

“You all know?” Clint shouted. “We were so careful.”

“Yeah, in my house. With my rules. And my security cameras.”

“You  _watch_  us?”

“Don’t be disgusting,” Tony scoffed.

Steve smiled. Everyone had gone back to the bickering, which was a sound he loved so much. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t his favorite thing in the world, but it just meant that things with his friends were normal, and that was so important to him.

They honestly didn’t care about him and his bisexuality, and not for the first time, he was glad he was in the twenty-first century—a time where he could be himself.


	40. Where Baby Peter Streaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Steve is in the kitchen cooking and when he looks at the door he sees baby peter running past butt naked carrying his diaper with Tony running after him

Two weeks ago, Steve and Tony had gone down to the orphanage to adopt a baby. Steve wanted to adopt an already born child, because he remembered living in an orphanage and he remembered saying that if he was ever in the position to do so, he would go and adopt as many kids as he could. Tony agreed to one, as a start, so they adopted a one-and-a-half year old named Peter Parker. Well, he  _was_  named Peter Parker. Now he was Peter Parker Rogers-Stark.

Peter walked, which they should have taken into account when they picked him. They weren’t just dealing with diapers and baths and nightmares and falling out of the bed. They were also dealing with opening drawers and getting places he shouldn’t and walking into their bedroom at night. At least he didn’t talk yet.

“Dad, is it okay if I leave you alone with him so I can go cook dinner?” Steve and Tony had taken to calling each other ‘dad’ and ‘pops’ when Peter was in the vicinity.

“Sure. He’s napping so it’s not like you’re going to miss much.” Despite what he said, Tony didn’t make a move to get out of the rocking chair next to the bed. He was working on a tablet and Steve knew that he was unlikely to get up until Peter woke up.

“Okay. Love you.” Steve pressed a kiss to the top of Tony’s head.

“Love you, too. Go cook us some yum-yums.”

“Mm, your baby speak is turning me on,” Steve said.

“Please tell me you’re kidding, because, if you’re not, that’s really creepy. I’m not wearing a diaper into bed. Sorry sweetheart but I draw the line at that. That is a freaky fucking kink. Oh my God, that’s not why you wanted a baby is it?” As he went on, Tony spoke faster and more frantically.

“Yes, I was kidding. I would be very disturbed if you wore a diaper. No, I do not have a baby fetish nor am I a pedophile.”

“Okay then, bye.” Tony titled his head back to give Steve access to his lips. Steve kissed him quickly before leaving.

Dinner was in the oven and he was washing up the cutting board when he heard manic childlike giggling and groans from his husband. Steve looked over and saw Peter running past, butt naked, holding his diaper in his hand. Tony was running behind him.

Peter was already in the kitchen when Tony caught up to him, picking him up. Steve wanted to be angry, but he couldn’t keep the smile from his face. “What’s going on here?”

“I was changing his diaper and he rolled off the table and grabbed the clean diaper and just kept running!” Tony shouted.

“You’re a superhero and you couldn’t catch him?” Steve chuckled.

“Be quiet, you,” Tony insisted.

“‘e ki-at, yew,” Peter mimicked.


	41. Where It's Father's Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: father's day prompt, maybe?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i got this prompt the day my dad died... three days before father's day.

Tony sat on the counter, kicking his legs idly as the coffee percolated in the pot beside him. He had fished out his old “#1 Dad” mug—the one Peter had gotten him for his second Father’s Day—and was currently clutching it to his chest.

Steve came in, freshly showered from his workout, and grabbed a similar mug that read “Super Dad”. Tony always griped about why  _he_  couldn’t be the Super Dad, but Steve gently reminded that Tony was #1, which shut Tony up.

Slowly but surely the rest of the team woke up, grabbed their coffee, sat around, grumbled about another day, dispersed, reconvened for breakfast, left again, returned for more coffee; the usual. Well, all was normal except for Steve and Tony, who spent the entire morning in the kitchen waiting for Peter to come make them breakfast like he always did on Father’s Day.

When 1pm rolled around, they finally gave up and went to his room. He was asleep in his bed, limbs spreading everywhere, his mouth hanging open, snoring. Tony raised an eyebrow to Steve who just shrugged.

“Rise and shine, darlin’. Gotta get up ’n’ milk dem cows,” Steve drawled, leading Tony to stifle a a laugh.

“No,” Peter groaned, throwing his arm over his eyes to shield the light streaming in his window. “Don’t wanna.”

“You’re nineteen years old. We agreed that you didn’t have to go to college right away, giving you time to grieve over Gwen, but it’s been almost a year and you  _cannot_  continue to sleep all day,” Tony gently scolded.

“Says you.”

“Peter, get up.”

Peter groaned and rolled over, cracking one eye open and glancing at his clock. “Oh, shit!” he exclaimed when he saw the time. He pushed back his blankets and ran around the room, pulling on a dirty pair of socks that were on the floor and fastening a belt around the jeans he had slept in. “I can’t believe this, I’m such an idiot.” He ran around the room, sniffing at shirts to see if they were clean.

“He really is your son,” Steve joked when Peter finally decided on a shirt.

“Where’s the fire, kid?” Tony asked as Peter rushed to tie his shoes.

“I’m supposed to be meeting this girl for lunch. Oh God, my first date in over a year and  _ugh_.”

Tony and Steve exchanged a look. “Pete,” Tony started gently. “Today is Father’s Day. We always go out to Coney Island and then that restaurant we like in the Bronx on Father’s Day.”

“It’s a tradition,” Steve added.

Peter stood in the doorway. “Well, I mean, isn’t this what you’ve been wanting me to do? Find a girl. _Move on_.”

“Well, yes,” Steve said.

“But does it have to be today? Father’s Day is only once a year.”

“Well, I mean, it’s not like you’re my real dads, right? We’ve had a good run with the Father’s Day stuff, but I know I’m not actually  _yours_. You’re both dudes. Maybe we can go somewhere in the city tonight. I have to go.” Peter ran out the door.

“Did he just say—?” Steve started.

“I’m gonna fly for a bit,” Tony interrupted, rushing to the elevator and hitting the button to bring him to the Iron Man hangar. Steve rushed after him, throwing his hand in the door to trigger the sensors at the last second.

“Tony, are you—”

“I need to be alone.”

—

Steve paced back and forth. Tony had left hours ago. Peter had left hours ago. Neither had contacted him. He thought about calling Peter’s cell phone, but decided against it. He really was happy for Peter, moving on. Tony, however, he could locate.

“JARVIS, where’s Tony?”

“ _Sir is sitting just inside the Iron Man hangar, Captain_.”

“Thanks.” Steve ran up the stairs two at a time. He burst through the door to see Tony sitting at the window, drinking from a bottle of scotch..

“Finally came looking for me,” Tony muttered.

“Sweety, why?” Steve asked, sitting on the floor across from Tony.

“He hates us, Steve.”

“He doesn’t hate us,” Steve said.

“He hates us because we aren’t his real fathers and that’s the Stark legacy: sons who hate their fathers.”

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat. “You’ve been… why did you drink, Tony?” Steve asked.

“ _Because my son hates me!_ ” Tony shouted. “Because I’ve done everything I could to be exactly the opposite of my shitty dad and he still ends up hating me! I tried my best but, as always, my best isn’t fucking good enough!”

Steve reached to hug him, but Tony leaned away. Steve pretended it didn’t hurt him. “He doesn’t hate us, Tony. He just—”

“ _I apologize for the interruption, but it seems that young Sir, has been in an accident. He is currently at the hospital_ ,” JARVIS informed.

—

Tony sat next to Peter’s hospital bed while Steve stood outside the room, getting the story from the girl—who looked surprisingly like Gwen if Gwen had red hair—and trying to calm her down.

“He came into the coffee house and he saw me and he just… turned around and left in a hurry and just walked out into traffic. I don’t think it was on purpose though because he wasn’t looking.”

Steve sighed. “I think he was startled. You look a lot like his ex-girlfriend, who passed away. You were his first date since her.”

“ _Oh_ ,” she whispered. 

Steve put a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it. The doctor said he’s going to be fine. Please don’t feel bad about this. He must’ve really liked you to have gone on a date with you in the first place.”

“It was a blind date.”

“Then whoever set you two up must’ve painted a really great picture, because it got him out of bed. Don’t worry sweetheart, he’ll be fine. I’m going to go back in there now but you’re free to sit out here and wait.”

Steve turned and went back into the room, where he found Tony with his head resting on Peter’s bed. Tony didn’t look up when Steve came in, and Steve wondered if Tony even knew he was there. He walked further into the room and placed his hand on Tony’s shoulder.

“How’s he been?” Steve asked.

“The doctor was just in here. They said that he will wake up as soon as the drugs wear off. Apparently he was in a lot of pain, so they drugged him pretty hard.”

Steve nodded. “We’ve all been there.”

“‘Cept it doesn’t work on you.”

“Nope. But I heal faster, so it’s all good.”

“Dads?” a groggy Peter croaked out. Tony didn’t even look at his son before standing and leaving the room. Peter looked at the door, a look of pained confusion on his face. “Where’s he going?”

Steve sighed and sat in the seat Tony had been occupying. “He thinks you don’t love him anymore.”

“ _What?_ ” Peter shrieked. “That’s preposterous.”

“Peter, you told us we weren’t your fathers today.”

“I did?”

“Yes. Dad took it… see the thing is, he had a lot of trouble as a child. His relationship with his father was very complicated. I don’t even know the whole story because he refuses to talk about it. He was always afraid that he was going to do wrong by a child.”

“But he’s the best dad in the world.”

“I know that and you know that, but he doesn’t.”

Peter groaned. “I’m a horrible person.”

“Don’t be a martyr, Peter. Apologize to your father.”

Peter nodded and Steve stood up, going out to find Tony. He didn’t have to look far. As soon as he opened the door, he saw his husband slumped against the wall just beside the door. “Is he okay?” Tony asked.

“He wants to talk to you.”

“So he can tell me I’m a horrible father some more.”

“I think you need to go in and hear him out.” When Tony didn’t stand up, Steve reached down and hoisted him up. “You’re going to go in there and listen to him, okay?”

“Don’t be pushy,” Tony grumbled but went into the room anyway.

“Dad,” Peter sighed as soon as Tony came into the room. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking I was just… you really are the best dad in the world.”

“Your pops is better than I’ll ever be.”

“No,” Peter insisted. Peter scooted over to the side of the bed and patted next to him. “Can you get in?”

Tony shrugged but climbed into the bed next to his son. Peter curled up against him. “I love you dad,” he mumbled into Tony’s shoulder.

“I love you, too.”

“You’ll always be my dad.”

Tony didn’t respond, just wrapped his arm around Peter and held him tighter. 


	42. Where There's a Hot Tub

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Can I get some really hot, and smutty hot tub time? Bonus points if they aren't together when they start messing around. Even more bonus points if its a in a public place.

Steve and Tony were there as a distraction. Clint and Natasha had spy things they needed to take care of. While their identities were known, they weren’t as widely recognized as Tony and Steve; if Captain America and Iron Man made an appearance, it would be very easy for Hawkeye and Black Widow to duck under the radar.

That didn’t mean there wasn’t time for a little relaxation. After the press conference (which was a wonderful success) they had some time to unwind before the gala that night. While Clint and Natasha were busy getting ready, Tony snuck down to the hot tub in their hotel for a little R&R. What he didn’t expect was to find Steve there.

“Ah-hah!” Tony exclaimed. “What happened to ‘the mission is first, we come second’?”

Steve chuckled awkwardly. “Uh, I figured it would make more sense if I was seen outside of the press conference and gala. Instead of just holing up in the room.”

“Yeah, sure. It’s fine to want to sit in a hot tub. Hot tubs are fun.” Tony climbed over the edge and sunk into the warm water. “Oh my god,” he moaned. As he moved through the water, he continued to moan.

“What are you doing?”

“Letting out the stress via vocal declarations of pleasure. Does it bother you?”

Steve shrugged. “Not really. I just think it’s a little weird.”

“I think you’re a little weird.”

Steve shook his head. “I will never understand you.”

Tony floated over so that he was next to Steve. “You don’t have to.” At this angle, Tony was at eye level with Steve’s lips. Perfect. Plump. Pink. Oh god, they looked so soft. He reached his hand up and traced his thumb along Steve’ bottom lips.

“What are you—”

“Shh,” Tony interrupted. “Just… give me a second.”

“Your hand tastes like chlorine.”

That’s all he needed to hear. He leaned up and pressed his lips to Steve’s. His lips that didn’t taste like chlorine.

Tony was fully expecting Steve to shove him away. He was expecting him to yell at Tony.  He was expecting him to get out of the hot tub and storm up to his room. Tony was expecting a lot of things but he was not expecting Steve to kiss him back.

Much to his surprise, it was Tony who pulled back first. “What the hell?”

“You kissed me!” Steve shouted.

“You kissed me back.”

“Was I not supposed to?”

“No.”

“Did you not want me to?”

“No.”

“I’m confused,” Steve said. “Answer this: if I were to lean in and kiss you right now, would you push me away?”

“No.”

Steve figured that was permission enough, so he closed the distance between his and Tony’s lips. Steve was apparently a handsy guy because it wasn’t long before he was running his fingers across Tony’s body. With his left hand fisted in Tony’s hair, his right dipped below the water to palm Tony through his swimsuit. Tony jolted forward and Steve pulled back.

“Too fast?”

“No.”

“Keep going?”

“Yes.”

Steve didn’t hesitate this time, instead shoving his hand below the waistline of his swimsuit. Tony bucked up but didn’t break the kiss. Instead, he managed to get his hand into Steve’s shorts as well.

He smiled when Steve made a little whining sound and pulled back just enough to murmur, “This okay?” Steve responded by pushing himself into Tony’s hand. “Thought so.”

Tony started moaning again, totally over the top, and Steve just jerked him harder. Tony took his hand out of Steve’s pants, to which Steve whined, and straddled him. Tony started to grind himself against Steve, who let out a low groan.

“Is it still considered dry humping if we’re wet?” Steve joked.

“Shut up. It’s good, old fashion friction.” Tony continued to move himself in Steve’s lap.

“More,” Steve gasped out. “Need more.”

“Nope. For one, I don’t want to get written up for public indecency.”

“We’re already being pretty publicly indecent,” Steve breathed as Tony started to suck on the skin just below where Steve’s collar would cover.

“And second,” Tony continued, “There’s no way in fuck I’m letting you go in dry.”

“But, there’s wat—”

“No lube, no love,” Tony interrupted. “That’s my rule.”

Steve groaned, whether from pleasure of from the cock block wasn’t clear. “Well you have to do _something_ ,” he hissed.

“I’d blow you, but I don’t want to drown.”

“Huh?”

“‘Cause you know… we’re in water?”

“Oh, right.”

“Here,” Tony said. “Lift your hips.” Steve did as he was told and Tony pulled Steve’s swim trunks  down a bit, then did the same with his own.

“What are you—Jesus  _fucking_  Christ,” he hissed when Tony took both of their cocks in his hand and started to slowly jerk them.

“What kind of Christian are you, Steven? Taking the lord’s name in vain. Tisk tisk.”

“I’m the kind who fucks in a public hot tub, apparently.”

“And with a man… guess you’re going to hell then.”

“For the love of god, Tony, can you  _please shut up._ ”

Tony gave an exaggerated sigh that turned into a moan as Steve batted his hand away and took over.

“Steve,” Tony gasped. “Steve you have to stop. We can’t jizz in the water.”

“ _Why not?_ ”

“Because it’s unsanitary and they’ll check the water and then check the security tapes and—fuck it, who cares if we get kicked out of Idaho.”

“We do,” Natasha said and both Steve and Tony whipped their heads around to see Clint and Natasha in swim gear.

“Aren’t you two supposed to be getting ready?” Steve asked, panicked.

“Aren’t you two not supposed to be fucking in the hot tub?” Clint responded.

“Shut up,” Tony snapped.

“I’m not going in there,” Clint said to Natasha.

“That makes two of us. Carry on gentlemen.”


	43. Where Steve Gets a Tattoo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: could you write something about Tony taking Steve to get a tattoo? :) or vice versa

“In the 1940’s, tattoos were considered a form of rebellion,” Steve mused as they walked into the tattoo parlor. “Now they’re a sign of conformity. Tony looked up at Steve and bumped their hands together, but Steve pulled back. “We’re in public, Tony.”

Tony frowned. He was pretty sure Steve loved him—he said it enough—but the fact that Steve refused to acknowledge that they were together when they were in public, hurt. He wasn’t sure if he was just a non-believer in PDA, if he was embarrassed of Tony, or if it was the fact that he was with a man—Steve had never specified.

“So are you going to conform with me?” Tony asked, quickly changing the subject before he made himself sick like tossing around the question of Steve’s affections always did.

“No. I came down here because you asked me to.”

“Because I hate it when you sit around at home, Mr. Mope-a-dope.”

“You don’t have to feel bad for me, Tony, I just—”

“Hey boys, what can I do for you?” a woman asked, coming from the back. Tony was struck by how beautiful she was, in a non-conventional way. With her black hair up in a ratty beehive, a pinup girl tattooed on her arm, and her lip pierced, she looked like Amy Winehouse. Sort of. Just because Tony was totally committed to Steve didn’t mean he couldn’t  _look_.

“Stop drooling,” Steve whispered.

“I’m not drooling.”

“He is here to get some mysterious tattoo that he refuses to tell me about and I am here because I was hoping to talk him out of it,” Steve told the woman.

“He’s actually here because I dragged him out of the house. When I leave him alone he just mopes around all the time and it’s very disheartening. Anyway, shall we?”

“Sure,” she said, then turned to go into the back room. “You coming or not?” she asked Steve.

“I think I’ll stay here.”

—

Tony and the woman walked out after about an hour, laughing. Steve was sat in the chair near the door but he jumped up when they came into the room. “So?” he asked.

“Steve, you’ve got yourself quite a ma—”

“ _Rhonda_ ,” Tony hissed. “Her name is Rhonda, by the way.”

“You told the sketchy tattoo lady?”

“Oh my god, Steve, don’t be an asshole!” Tony shouted.

“I’m leaving,” Steve said.

“Good. Leave.”

Steve stormed out of the room.

“I’m so sorry,” Tony said to Rhonda. “He’s not usually like that.”

“I figured.”

He took out his card and paid, then went in search of his dumbass boyfriend.

—

“He knew how I felt about telling people, and he confides in some random stranger!” Steve shouted to Natasha.

“Well—” Natasha said.

“ _Well_? What kind of tone is that, Natasha?”

“I think you’re being a little unreasonable. You love him, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you want to be with him for the long run.”

“Of course.”

“Then why do you have a problem telling the world? They’re going to find out eventually.”

Having made her point, Natasha stood and left the room.

—

Steve hesitantly knocked on their bedroom door. Tony was lounged across the bed, reading. He had his glasses on—something he only let Steve ever see.

“Can I help you?” Tony snapped.

“Tony, please don’t be like that.”

“Be like what, Steve? Upset that you don’t care about me enough to—”

Steve lifted up his shirt to show Tony his hip. Tony leaned in to read what was written.

_Property of Stark Industries_ , complete with logo and all.

“Is that—”

“Permanent, yes. Rhonda was very understanding. I wanted you to know that, just because I’m not ready to let the world know just yet, I am yours forever.”


	44. Where They Fuck on Steve's Computer Desk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Tony fucks Steve against his computer desk while his parents are out and no one else is around

“We’ll only be out to dinner for a few hours, but if you need  _anything_  don’t hesitate to call.”

“Mom, I’m sixteen. You can leave me home alone.”

“I just worry about you, sweetheart. You’re my little baby boy.” Sarah ran her hand along Steve’s jaw.

“No drinking, no drugs, no parties, no girls. Got it mom.”

He moved his curtain to the side so he could watch his mom drive down the road. As soon as their taillights disappeared around the corner, he picked up his phone, scrolled through his contacts, and called Tony.

“ _Hola muchacho_ ,” Tony greeted on the first ring.

“My parents went out to dinner.”

“ _And you’re alone,_ ” Tony clarified. “ _For the whole night_.”

“Yes.”

“I’m coming now.”

Steve didn’t get a chance to say anything else before his screen flashed the words  _Call ended._  That was fine. He and Tony never did a lot of talking, anyway. Fuck, they hadn’t even  _kissed_. Kissing was too intimate. Their relationship was strictly fucking, and Steve was fine with it. Well, mostly fine. He sometimes wondered what it would feel like to have Tony’s mouth somewhere other than his dick, but… oh well.

He sat as his desk chair, spinning in circles while he waited for Tony to show up. It didn’t take very long. Steve grabbed onto the side of his desk to stop the chair, jerking forward, dizzier than he had expected to be. When he was fairly certain that he wasn’t going to throw up, he walked to the door and let Tony in.

“What took you so long?” Tony asked in place of ‘hello’. “Were you jerking off? Steven,” he gasped in mock horror. “I thought that was why I was here. Why do I even bother if you have your hand to keep you company?”

“Shut up and get in the bedroom.”

Tony started walking towards Steve’s bedroom, but stopped dead. Steve almost didn’t have time to stop before he bumped into Tony. “You know… we always do it in the bed. Why don’t we do it here,” Tony leaped into Steve’s desk chair, rolling back and spinning slightly.

“Because this is the living room and there are windows.”

“I see your mouth moving but all I hear is that sound the parents make in Charlie Brown.” Tony proceeded to make the  _whomp whomp_ sound. “C’mon. Let’s close the blinds and fuck on your desk.” Tony’s eyes looked hopeful. “You know you’re the only teenager I know who has his fucking homework desk in the living room? What even is that?”

“My mom wants me to get my work done and doesn’t want me spending all of my time on Facebook and watching porn.”

“Aw, snoogums. Why would you watch porn when you have me?”

“I called you, didn’t I?”

Tony started bouncing in the chair. “Please please please! It’ll be fuuuuuuun.”

Steve rolled his eyes and walked up to Tony, pulling him to his feet. “Pants down,” he growled, his voice low.

Tony, the smug bastard, smirked. “Knew you’d warm up to me, Steve-o.”

“Turn around,” Steve instructed. Tony made a face. “What?”

“Since we’re switching it up, why don’t we  _really_  switch it up.” Tony waggled his eyebrows.

“What do you mean?” Steve asked, fighting the urge to unbutton his pants and relieve some of the pressure that was getting increasingly more uncomfortable.

“I’m going to turn you around, bend you over that desk, and fuck you into tomorrow. Sound good?”

Steve just nodded his head eagerly. He had been trying to figure out a way to ask Tony to top, but couldn’t. Now he didn’t have to say a word. “Oh, um, the lube is—”

“I know where it is.” Tony disappeared down the hall, presumably heading toward Steve’s room. He felt awkward standing there, but he’d feel more awkward trying to make some sort of pose or whatever, so he opted to sit in his desk chair and spin around again. “What the hell?”

Steve jerked the chair to a stop. “Sorry.”

“Stand,” Tony demanded. Steve did as he was told. Tony simultaneously dropped to his knees and unfastened Steve’s pants, shoving them down around his ankles. Steve sighed at the release of tension, but it quickly turned into a gasp as Tony started to lick the head of his cock. If that wasn’t enough, not ten seconds later, Tony was sticking a lube slicked finger inside of him.

“Jesus FUCK,” Steve shouted and bucked forward. Tony responded by taking Steve further into his mouth and partway down his throat. Steve wasn’t sure what exactly to do, so he decided to just stand there while Tony deep-throated him and fingered his ass. Without warning, Tony put another finger in. Steve let out a whine and Tony pulled back so he could chuckle.

“You like it?” he asked, wiping the spit off his face with his free hand.

“Y-yes,” Steve responded as Tony twisted his fingers inside of him.

“How much?”

“A whole  _FUCKING LOT_ ,” he shouted when Tony’s finger brushed against his prostate. Tony stopped moving altogether and Steve looked down at him. “Why’d you stop.”

“I like seeing you like this,” he admitted, smirking. Without warning, he curled his fingers inside Steve and hit his prostate again. Steve moaned.

“What’s it going to take to get you to fuck me?” Steve panted.

Tony shrugged and took the head of Steve’s cock in his mouth.

“Do you want me to  _beg_?” Steve asked.

Tony nodded his head.

“Please for the love of god please just fuck me. Bend me over the fucking desk and fuck me so hard just please do it now. Tony  _please!_ ”

Tony hollowed out his cheeks, sucking one last time, before pulling off. “Well, when you ask so nicely…” Tony removed his fingers from Steve’s ass and stood. “Turn around.” Steve nodded dumbly. Once his back was to Tony, Tony bent him over the desk. “Spread your legs.”

“Okay,” Steve said, his voice shaky. Steve heard the opening of the condom and looked over his shoulder to try and see Tony rolling it on.

“Eh, eh, eh!” Tony slapped Steve’s shoulder. “No looking.”

Steve whimpered when he felt Tony pressing against his entrance.

“Ready?” Tony hissed. Steve didn’t get to answer before Tony was slowly pushing in. He gasped when Tony’s hips were flush against his ass.

Tony stayed like that, unmoving, while Steve panted. “For the love of  _god_ , Tony,  _MOVE._ ” Tony started to thrust into Steve at a leisurely pace. It didn’t take long before Steve was rocking back onto him. “Fuck, Tony, just fucking fuck me if feels so fucking good you feel so good fucking  _pound my ass_ ,” Steve shouted. Tony pulled out and Steve was left to whine, “ _Why?_ ”

“Calm your tits,” Tony said, wheeling the chair over. “Put your foot on this.”

Steve did as he was told and Tony didn’t waste a second, pushing back into Steve, thrusting in earnest. With the new angle, Tony was able to hit Steve’s prostate with every trust, leading Steve to start moaning.

“I love it when you moan like the little whore you are,” Tony snarled.

“Best. Idea. Ever,” Steve shouted as he let his arms go weak and dropped his head to the desk. He let out a low moan when he felt Tony snake his arm around him and wrap his hand around his dick. “Faster,” he panted. “ _Faster_.”

Tony picked up the pace, thrusting faster and jerking harder and it wasn’t long before Steve was coming in Tony’s hand and across his desk.

“Tony…”

“Yeah?” he gasped.

“I jizzed on my math homework.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Tony groaned as he came inside Steve.


	45. Where Tony and Steve Fight A Lot in College

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: steve is in love with an uptown boy. he thinks that tony is tired of his highclass toys and he's looking for a downtown brooklyn boy, that's what steve is
> 
> TW: SLIGHT DOMESTIC VIOLENCE

“You’re  _bored_ , Tony Stark. You’re bored with your predicable little life,” Steve shouted. “And I guess that’s why you came to me, isn’t it? To get it out of your system? So that when you become a beer bellied, sad old man you can tell your friends over cigars that you went slumming in college?”

Tony let out an angry breath. “How  _dare_  you say that to me?” he hissed. “I have done nothing but love you since the day we met.”

They continued to scream and fight and then, in the heat of it, Steve grabbed the collar of Tony’s shirt, and pulled him in for a bruising kiss. They fought more often than not, but one of the few things they ever agreed on was that they loved each other.

But it hadn’t always been like that.

—

Freshman year found Steve camped out in Bucky’s room. “Oh Buck, he’s perfect,” Steve groaned, flopping on his best friend’s bed. They had been lucky enough to get into the same school, but not lucky enough to share the same room.

“Then talk to him.”

“You don’t understand. He’s one of those people that  _pays_  to go to school here. Actual money. With no loans and no grants and no scholarships.”

“ _And?_ ” Bucky asked.

“Why would he like me? I’m a dirt poor piece of shit.” He didn’t need to bring up that he was also scrawny, bony, awkward, and kind of sickly.

“Don’t make me hit you.,” Bucky threatened. Steve groaned. “Look,” Bucky said finally. “Humor me. Go talk to him. You don’t have any classes with him. You’ve only seen him around campus. If it doesn’t go well, you don’t have to worry about it.”

Steve hated it when Bucky made sense.

—

“Hello,” Steve greeted nervously, approaching the table Tony was sat at. Alone. Steve had never seen him alone.

“Hey there. Wanna join me?” Tony asked. Steve thought he was going to shit himself. He hadn’t even had to ask. He tried not to act as eager as he felt as he pulled out the chair and sat at the table with Tony. “Tell me about yourself,” Tony said.

Steve shrugged. “I grew up in Brooklyn. Orphan. My best friend Bucky and I both got in here on scholarship.” Steve couldn’t stop himself from rambling. “I got sick a lot when I was younger and Bucky always asked me why I even left the house, but how could I stay inside the world is so awesome and big and I want to live in it.” Steve finally stopped when he noticed Tony staring. “I’m Steve, by the way.”

“Hi Steve, I’m Tony.”

“I know. I mean, uh, shit.”

“It’s okay. I like you Steve.”

—

“You’re an uptight piece of shit!” Tony shouted at Steve, hitting him with a pillow. “You keep saying that _I’m_  the one who has a problem with the class difference, but I fucking don’t.”

“Yes you do!”

“I really, honestly don’t!” Tony hit him again. “You’re the one who always brings it up!”

“Stop!” Steve pushed Tony away. In the two years since they were freshman, Steve had picked up a lot of muscle mass and grew taller than Tony. He was a lot stronger than Tony now, too, which he often forgot. Tony fell back and hit his head. “Oh my god are you alright?” Steve asked, his anger immediately gone as he moved to Tony’s side.

“I’m fine,” Tony assured.

“Are you sure? Do you want to go to Health Services?”

“You know they’re a joke,” Tony chuckled. “Really, Steve, I’m fine.”

“I love you.”

“I know. It was an accident.”

—

“Jesus, put your phone down for ten seconds while we eat dinner,  _please_ ,” Bucky said. “Are you still texting him?”

“Nooooo,” Steve said, putting the phone on the table and consciously sliding it away from him.

“When I came into your room this morning you were texting him. When I came back from class you were still in bed texting him, even though you were supposed to be in class. Then you came into my room and texted him. Did you bring your phone in the shower with you, too?”

Steve made a face. “I didn’t actually shower today. I just ran my head under the water to get my hair wet so that you thought I did.” After their impromptu lunch together, Steve had given Tony his number. Tony had texted him that night and they hadn’t stopped their back and forth for the past week.

“That’s enough, I’m calling him for you and putting an end to this madness.”

“No!” Steve exclaimed, reaching for his phone. Bucky got there faster.

“Ah, a text from your beloved,” Bucky joked, unlocking Steve’s phone.

“It’s  _not funny_ ,” Steve insisted.

“‘ _Stop being a piece of shit and give Steve back his phone_ ’,” Bucky read. He looked around and finally laid eyes on Tony on the other side of the room, who gave a two finger salute. Bucky was visibly outraged and Steve fought hard not to laugh. “Hold on,” Bucky said, “You two can see each other and communicate, but you won’t talk face to face.

“Pretty much,” Steve shrugged one boney shoulder and looked over to Tony, who blew him a kiss.

—

“You were looking for someone like me and you know it,” Steve said.

“I  _wasn’t_  looking for you, but I’m damn glad I found you because you were exactly what I needed. And I love you Steve, I really do…”

“You what?”

“I lo—that’s the first time I’ve said that, isn’t it.”

Steve nodded.

“Well I do.”

“Me too. Love you. I mean, I love you too.”

—

Steve carried the last box into Tony’s house, kicking the door shut behind him.

“Well… we graduated,” Tony said.

“And we’re living together,” Steve responded, not sure what exactly to do now.

“And we love each other.”

“And we kind of hate each other, too.”

“And now you’re an uptown boy, too,” Tony joked.

“Well,  _I’ll_  never get sick of my high class toy,” Steve grinned, pulling Tony in for a kiss.


	46. Where They Take A Nap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Tony trying to get with Steve and therefore buying him a gigantic American flag to impress him. And realizing that he went overboard AGAIN, and letting it slip that it is because he is crazy about him.

Tony woke up and looked down to find that he was horizontal on the couch, pressed against Steve’s chest, the other man asleep. Steve looked so peaceful—a look Tony had never seen on his face—and for a second Tony debated not waking him. At that second, though, Steve opened his eyes and Tony bolted away.

“Woah, woah,” Tony shouted, once he was standing.

“What just happened?” Steve asked, looking at the couch as if it had the answer.

“I think we just… fell asleep watching the movie,” Tony rationalized.

“Oh, yeah, that makes sense,” Steve nodded. “I’m gonna go.”

“Yeah, good idea.”

—

Tony didn’t know what to do. He paced back and forth in front of that goddamned couch, trying to figure out why he suddenly had these _feelings_ for Steve. It was just a nap, after all. Just two friends, falling asleep watching a movie. There’s nothing wrong with that.

So why did he want _more_? He would have been completely content to snuggle back up against Steve. To fall asleep in his arms again. To kiss him awake and…

_Shit._

He needed and excuse to go to Steve’s floor. After what happened he couldn’t just drop by. He had to have a reason. Maybe Steve forgot something! Tony started to look around the room, searching for something he could pass off as Steve’s to bring back to him.

He found nothing.

Of course he found nothing. Steve was immaculately clean.

Tony hated that.

Tony loved that.

Tony loved Steve.

“Funny! Sometimes he think’s I’m funny,” Tony muttered to himself. “What could I do that he would think is funny?”

—

Tony knocked on the door to Steve’s apartment, a large bag in his hand. When Steve saw it was Tony, his stature visibly tensed. “Hello.”

“Uh, hi. You left this on the common floor,” Tony said, holding up the bag.

“What is it?”

Tony opened the bag and unfurled a large American flag and draped it over himself. “Just a little America,” he joked.

“Tony, it’s not funny. Where did you even buy that?”

“I had it made. Isn’t it awesome?” Tony grinned, twirling around so show Steve. “I’m like a fairy princess.”

“It’s not funny to disrespect the flag like that.”

“ _I pledge allegiance, to the ass,_ ” Tony turned and wiggled his butt for Steve. “ _Of the unbelievable Tony Stark. And to this specimen, for which he stands, one napper, under him, with tomfoolery and snuggles for all_ ,” Tony proclaimed.

“How long did you rehearse that?”

Tony deflated, the smile leaving his face. “You know what, forget it.” The balled up the flag and threw it at Steve as he left the room.

“Wait!” Steve shouted after him.

“ _What?_ ” Tony asked back.

“We need to talk.”

“No, we don’t,” Tony insisted. He had embarrassed himself enough for one day.

“Look, uh…” Steve stammered for a moment. “That was the best nap I’ve ever had.”

“You napped for seventy years,” Tony snarked.

“I have nightmares, and I know you have them too,” Steve said. Tony didn’t know what to say, so he chose instead to stand in the doorway and stare awkwardly at Steve, because he was smooth like that.

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“C’mon. Admit it! That was the best sleep you’ve gotten in awhile.”

Tony couldn’t look at Steve, so he elected to look at the wall to his left. “I’ve had better.”

“Okay. When?” Steve tempted.

“Alright! Alright! It was the best nap I’ve ever had. But it’s over, Steve.”

“Tony… I—I want to do it again.”

“No. Nope. We’re not going to do it again. Do you want to know why? Because I feel _safe_ when I’m with you, okay? And _happy_. And I think I’ve known for a really long time but I am hopelessly in love with you and I do stupid shit like this,” he waved the flag in front of Steve’s face, “because I have no fucking clue how to woo you. So yeah, that nap was the best nap I ever had and it was accidental and I can’t do it again because it’s just going to end up hurting me.”

Tony didn’t wait for an answer before he turned and slammed the door.

—

“Tony?” Steve knocked on Tony’s bedroom door.

“Go away,” Tony shouted from the bed where he was _not pouting_.

“Tony, please?”

Instead of answering, Tony got up and padded across to the door, opening it and looking up at Steve. “What?” he asked.

“You forgot something on my floor,” Steve said, handing Tony the bag with the American flag.

“Seriously?” Tony asked, reaching out for the bag in Steve’s extended hand. As soon as he got close, though, Steve grabbed Tony’s wrist and pulled him in, pressing their lips gently together. Not a second later, Steve pulled back. “Seriously?” Tony repeated, putting an entirely different meaning behind the complaint.

Steve bit his lip and nodded.


	47. Where Tony's On Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: My sister recently left to go to Germany and I miss her, do you think you could do a prompt where Tony is away on business and Steve misses him but refuses to call because he thinks Tony's work is too important?

Steve missed Tony. There was a rock in his gut whenever he thought about his husband—which was always—and the fact that they were on opposite sides of the world.

He was currently frowning into a stack of pancakes. Tony had been gone almost a week and hadn’t called him. Steve hated calling Tony when he was on business trips because, if Tony didn’t have the time to call _him_ , then he didn’t have time to answer the phone, either. Steve understood that, and didn’t get angry about it, he just missed Tony something awful and wished his husband would take a few minutes out of the day to check up.

He used his fork to cut off a piece of the perfectly circular—scarily circular—pancake Natasha had made him. As he chewed it, though, it was soggy and disgusting, totally soaked through with syrup. He finished chewing the bite before dumping the rest of the contents of the plate in the trashcan.

He moved the pity party to the living room where he sat himself on the couch and stared out the window, frowning.

“You threw away my pancakes,” Natasha said in place of a greeting. “Why?”

“Nothin.”

“ _You threw away my pancakes_ ,” Natasha repeated, her voice angry as she sat across from Steve on the coffee table. “ _Why_? _”_

“Tony’s in Germany,” Steve mumbled.

“And?”

“I miss him.”

“I’m waiting for the part where you throw away my perfect pancakes because so far I’m not seeing a correlation.”

“I was moping,” Steve admitted. “And the pancakes got soggy because of the syrup. Sorry.”

“There are these new fangled things called cell-phones, Cap, and you can use them to call people,” Natasha chastised.

“I know how to use a cell-phone,” Steve snapped. “Despite what everyone thinks, I’m not a dinosaur when it comes to technology. I actually find them quite easy to use.”

“Then call your husband. Use Skype. See his face. _Stop moping and wasting my pancakes._ ”

Steve shook his head. “He’s too busy.”

“Your head is full of rocks,” Natasha muttered as she stomped out of the room.

—

Needless to say, Steve was distracted. He spent half his day jerking off in the shower because he had nothing better to do and the other half he spent making food and then not eating it because it would get soggy or cold or melt.

He threw away more food in those ten days than he had in his entire life. Growing up malnourished and in poverty he had always sworn never to waste food, but whatever. He felt guilty but not guilty enough to eat a cold omelet or a melted ice cream sundae.

When they finally, _mercifully_ , reached the ten day mark of Tony’s trip—which coincidentally marked his return—Steve hovered around the elevator like an excited puppy, waiting for Tony to arrive. When the doors finally opened, Steve wasn’t met with a smiling face.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” Steve asked running to Tony and grabbing his suitcase.

“Nothing,” Tony quipped, confirming that there was obviously _something_ wrong.

“What can I do to help?”

“Nothing.”

—

“Tony, it’s been six hours, what’s wrong?” Steve asked, barging into the workshop. Tony opened his mouth to protest, but Steve shouted over him. “DON’T YOU DARE TELL ME THAT NOTHING IS WRONG, BECAUSE YOU’RE FUCKING IGNORING ME AFTER TEN DAYS APART!”

“Well you fucking ignored me for ten days, too! Not a call. Not a text. Nothing.”

“You were working!” Steve defended.

“I had one fucking conference a day! I left you a schedule on the fucking fridge of when I couldn’t talk! The rest of the time was fair game.”

“ _What?_ ” Steve asked.

Tony sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “You know what, Steve. Forget it.”

“I—I didn’t know.”

“Whatever.”

“Are you seriously mad at me for this, Tony? It was an accident! So are you just going to keep ignoring me or yelling at me or whatever, because I ignored you? _Accidentally_?”

Tony scuffed the toe of his foot on the floor. “When you put it like that it sounds kind of stupid.”

“I love you, sweetheart. I wouldn’t have married you if I didn’t.”

Tony made a small smile and looked up at Steve. “You’re not bad, yourself.”

“I screwed up and I’m sorry.”

Tony crossed his hands over his chest. “It’s going to take a lot to earn my forgiveness Steven. Flowers. Chocolates. Sex. The whole deal.”

“Does it have to be in that order?”

Tony smirked. “If you really want we can start at the end and work our way back.”


	48. Where Peter Starts School

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Peter's first day of school?

Peter strode into kindergarten with his Iron Man lunchbox tucked into his Captain America backpack. His parents were  _so lame_  but they were also really cool because they were, you know, superheroes and stuff, but also because they loved him more than anything in the world.

He had told his dad and pops that he wasn’t scared about starting school, but the truth was that he was a little nervous. Not as nervous as they were, though, so he told them he was fine. He was a perceptive little dude.

Dad had taught him since Day One that people would treat him differently because of his family, but he never really thought about.

"We have a very special student in our class this year," his teacher Ms. Stacy beamed. Peter cringed. "Peter Stark, son of Captain America and Iron Man!"

Peter stood up. “Actually ma’am, I’m the son of Steve Rogers and Tony Stark,” he said with more confidence than he felt. “They don’t walk around in their suits all the time. They aren’t always heroes. Most of the time they’re really big dorks who snuggle a lot.” Peter sat in his seat, overly proud of himself.


	49. Where Steve Won't Take It Easy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Steve has a concussion and won't take it easy, which stresses Tony out

Tony was about to start hyperventilating. His husband had been  _knocked_ _unconscious_  twenty minutes ago and he was already up and about, cooking dinner.

"Seriously, Steve, I can make it. Please go lay down."

"Tony, I’m fine," Steve assured.

"Please, Steve, for me."

Steve sighed but kissed Tony’s forehead and left the room. After Tony called the Chinese place down the road - it’s not like he was going to  _cook_  - he went to their room to check on Steve.

Except Steve wasn’t in their room.

"JARVIS, where is he?"

“ _He’s in the gym, sir._ ”

"Are you  _fucking with me?_ " Tony shouted at no one in particular and stomped downstairs. "What the hell, Steve. You told me you were going to lay down."

"I got antsy," Steve said with a shrug, then went back to his punching bag. Tony decided to risk his life and ducked behind the bag. Steve stopped mid swing so as to not knock it into Tony. " _What?_ " he asked.

"Dinner’s ready."

"I left ten minutes ago."

"I can’t cook. I ordered Chinese."

"You said you were going to  _make_  dinner,” Steve accused.

"And you said you were going to lay down, so we’re both dirty liars. Now come eat and watch a movie with me. Please. I’m worried about you."

Steve smiled and kissed Tony’s temple. “Can I just finish up -“

"No," Tony interrupted. "You are hurt and if it were me, you would be carrying me around and strapping me to things so I wouldn’t run away. I’m not strong enough to hold you down, but please just humor me."

"Fine," Steve grumbled, throwing his arm around Tony. "You’re right."

"I usually am."


	50. Where They Talk About Young Jennifer Aniston

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Superfamily! Peter brings home Wade for dinner, and watch the superdaddies go protective while everyone reading just lolz.

"He brought home a  _boy_ ,” Tony said. “This is not a drill. Our son is following in the footsteps of his fathers’ homosexuality.”

"And that’s a bad thing?" Steve asked.

"No, I just didn’t see it coming."

"Oh please, we all saw it coming. He was more interested Ryan Renyolds than young Jennifer Aniston," Steve commented. "And young Jennifer Aniston was a knock out."

"What are you talking about? Jennifer Aniston is still a knock out. By the way, did I ever tell you about the time I  _slept_  with young Jennifer Aniston?”

"Dad! Pops! I’m right here!" Peter shouted.

"How long have you been standing there?" Tony asked, caught off guard.

"Since ‘this is not a drill’," Peter’s friend, the  _boy_ , Wade, said.

"Oh," both Steve and Tony said in unison.

"Did you really sleep with young Jennifer Aniston?" Wade asked.

Tony smiled. “At the time she was just Jennifer Aniston.”


	51. Where There's All The Cliches

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Stony, please use the line "I think you need glasses." If you want bonus points, one bonus point for each hilarious cliche (i.e. his blue eyes sparkled like pools of sapphires) you can fit in!

"Your voice is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard," Steve mused, rubbing his hands through his boyfriend’s hair. He loved Tony to the moon and back, and it was all he could do not to  _ravish_  him, right there, in the middle of dinner.

"Oh darling," Tony cooed, "Your eyes are so blue I could just swim in them. You’re skin is soft as butter. Just the thought that you are alive and breathing is enough to keep  _me_  alive and breathing.”

Steve’s breath caught in his throat as he fought to keep his heart from bursting through his chest at the thought of Tony running his hands over his  _butter soft_  skin. He realized he needed it more than anything. “You are my beloved, Tony Stark, and you are more beautiful than any other human alive.”

"Yeah, uh, sweetheart? I think you need glasses."

"Why?" Steve asked, still unsure how the genius worked.

"Because clearly you are the most beautiful human being to ever live."

Steve hummed in content, beaming at Tony.

"Okay actually, what the fuck?" Clint asked. Steve and Tony broke eye contact to see the rest of the team staring at them.


	52. Where Tony Is Oblivious

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Steve proposes to Tony?

Tony was so oblivious it was sickening. Steve had been trying to drop hints for weeks and Tony  _just wasn’t getting it._

"Which one of us do you think is the girl?" Steve asked one morning over breakfast.

"I don’t know."

"Like… which one of us would walk down the isle while the other waited at the alter?" Steve asked, praying Tony would pick up on where he was going.

"Don’t know," Tony shrugged, munching on his toast.

—

"Do you think when two dudes get married one of them should wear white?"

"Well that is used to be a symbol of a woman’s purity when she got married and since few people are actually pure when they get married nowadays, I don’t really see a point," Tony said while flipping through channels.

"So you don’t think a bride should be in white?"

"No, I do. I just don’t think it should necessarily transfer over."

—

Steve was flopped on Tony’s couch, doodling himself in a wedding gown because he was that far gone, when Tony flopped down next to him. Steve quickly covered up the tiny drawing.

"Do you see a point in a flower girl and ring bearer?" Steve asked. He had thought about that a lot when planning their wedding in his head because, honestly, they didn’t know any kids.

"Nah. I get it if the couple has a kid or something and they want to put them in the wedding, but past that…" Tony shrugged.

—

Tony was half asleep, blissed out in a wonderful post orgasm haze, but Steve still needed to say it. “Tony.”

"Whu?" he murmured into Steve’s shoulder.

"Will you please finally pick up on my wedding hints and marry me?"

The grin spread across Tony’s face and Steve realized he had been played. “I knew you’d break first. You’re about a subtle as a train wreck.”


	53. Where Tony Cooks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Tony cooks (and very well may i add) for Steve?

After the disaster that was the omelet for Pepper, Tony had sworn off cooking. He wasn’t good at it and if he wasn’t good at it, it was pretty fucking stupid is what it was. He could make a damn good drink, so there. That was food. Sort of.

He was currently in the middle of a change of heart, however, because he and Steve were coming up on their one month anniversary and he wanted to do something special.  _Really_  special. They’d fucked, they’d made love, they’d kissed in the rain. Tony wanted to go above and beyond and do something Steve would never expect of him. _  
_

So, he decided he was going to cook dinner.

"What is the easiest thing to cook?" he asked Pepper.

"That’s not prepackaged and stored in the freezer?" she joked.

"Please, I don’t need this. I really need your help," he pleaded. "I want to make Steve an anniversary dinner." He loved that he and Pep had remained friends after their breakup, to the point where he could ask for relationship advice on his new lover.

Pepper put her head in her hands. “Can I cook and then you say it’s yours.”

"No."

"Can I stand there and direct your every move?" _  
_

Tony shrugged. “Sure.”

—

Tony wasn’t one to brag, but the fucking red sauce was to die for and he had cooked the ravioli to perfection. They weren’t soggy or crunch and the sauce wasn’t watery but it wasn’t too think and he was so proud of himself.

"You’re beaming," Steve said when Tony lead him to the table. "What’s going on?"

"I did a thing."

"What did you do?"

"I cooked."

Steve visibly panicked and Tony just smirked. Joke’s on him. “Oh.”

"Pepper helped."

“ _Oh_ ,” Steve relaxed.

"Eat." Tony shoved a plate at Steve.

"This is really good. She did it for you, didn’t she?"

"Nope, but just like every other thing that I’ve done over the past near two decades, she hovered over me and cleaned up my messes."


	54. Where Tony Finds Captinis Americis Dickis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: I have a porny one if you're up for it! Tony gives Steve a hand job and talks to his dick, Steve is not amused.
> 
> NSFW

Tony unbuttoned and unzipped Steve’s pants, sticking his hand inside. “As the brave adventurer slips into the forbidden land, he finds,” Tony gasped, pulling Steve’s dick out. “The rare one-eyed snake, Captinis Americis Dickis!” He reached over and pumped some lotion on his hand before starting to gently play with Steve.

Steve furrowed his brow as he looked at Tony. “Are you joking?”

"No!" Tony shouted. "One should never joke when dealing with Captinis Americis Dickis." He slowly stroked Steve’s cock. Steve wanted to lose himself in it, but all he could focus on was Tony whispering to his dick. "Such a good snaky. Your venom is the best poison, isn’t it? Show me what you can do, let me taste it—"

"Can you not?"

"Is it getting angry? Am I not pleasing the snake," Tony’s eyes widened and he looked back to Steve’s dick. "Do not be angered with me Mr. Dickis! I will do all that I can." He started to tug at Steve harder. Steve moaned despite himself. This was the weirdest sex they had ever had, and they had had  _really weird sex._  


	55. Where They Have A Daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: They have a daughter

She was so small. So small. Tony was afraid to breathe normally because he didn’t want to jar her too much. She was curled in his arms, face to his chest, with her hand resting on the glowing arc reactor. Tony hated the reactor, but it brought peace to his new baby girl, so maybe it wasn’t horrible.

"She’s going to be a knockout when she gets older," Steve said. Tony had been so wrapped up in their daughter he had forgotten Steve was in the room with him.

"She’s not dating until she’s twenty-five."

Steve smiled. “Like father, like daughter then.”

"She better not end up with someone like me," Tony whispered, careful not to jar the tiny person in his arms. How could a person be this tiny?

"I don’t know what you’re talking about. If she marries someone that holds his child the way you are holding her, then she will have found the perfect man."

Tony’s throat closed up, but only a little bit. “Thanks.”

"We still have to name her, you know. It’s been two weeks."

"I was thinking Peggy," Tony said, smiling. He shifted his gaze from the baby to Steve. The soldier’s eyes had a glisten in them they hadn’t had before.

"I like it," he whispered, giving Tony a sad smile.

"Something told me you might." He turned his attention back to their daughter. "You like that name, sweetheart? Your name is Peggy now."


	56. Where Steve and Peter Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Peter and Steve get in a fight (preferably w/ Peter being a teen)

Steve and Tony threw Peter a lavish high school graduation party. They were so proud of their son. Everyone who was important at any point in their son’s life was there.

Except their son.

"Call him," Tony hissed at Steve.

"On it."

Steve excused himself from the party and went up to Peter’s room. He had just pulled his phone out when Peter came through the window, still dressed as Spiderman.

"Hi pops," he greeted, taking off the mask.

Steve closed his eyes and dug his fingers into his palms to keep from screaming. “Of all the irresponsible things to do—”

"I was helping someone!" Peter defended.

"We agreed to let you be Spiderman on the grounds that Peter Parker comes first—"

"You and dad always put the public before yourselves!" Peter shot back.

"In the past we have made calls that put our lives at risk to save those of civilians, but it is not something we do for fun. We have our family and friends to think of when we are out there and we have to remember that, while we’re fighting for something bigger than us, we also have to fight for ourselves. We are not martyrs, Peter. We cannot ask to be thanked."

"I don’t want to be  _thanked_ , Pop, hence the mask.”

Steve lost it. “You are an arrogant child who thinks he can beat the world! News flash, you can’t! You are Peter Parker and there are two hundred and fifty people waiting out there to congratulate you on an important milestone in your life. They don’t know that you’re Spiderman. You don’t have an excuse. It’s all on you, and I will not take the fall for your arrogance. Change, comb your goddamn hair, and think up an alibi in the next five minutes. If you’re not down there by then, I’m coming up here with dad, and I’m sure that you don’t want to have  _that_  conversation now, do you?”

"No sir," Peter whispered shyly.

"I love you, Peter," Steve said, because no matter how much he fought with his son, he would always love him.

"I know. I love you, too. I’m really sorry."

"You’re not off the hook, so you better enjoy tonight."


	57. Where Steve and Peter Fight Part II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Aftermath of Steve and Peter's fight

When Peter arrived at the party, Steve saw a flushed face with red eyes. He knew in his heart that he had been right, but he had never meant to make his son cry. He watched as Gwen walked over. She placed a hand on his chest. Steve watched as she mouthed  _Are you okay?_  Peter smiled sadly and nodded.

Steve had to look away.

“What happened up there?” Tony asked. “You look like shit and Peter doesn’t look much better.”

“I yelled at him,” Steve whispered. “I’ve never yelled at him before. I was always good cop.”

“I never really let on how much it sucks to be bad cop, did I?” Tony asked and Steve shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“How do you do it?” Steve asked. “You barely seemed bothered by it.”

Tony laughed. “I hate it. I just know that, in his heart, he knows that he deserves whatever punishment he gets. I also know that he will love us and he knows we will always love him, despite whatever we say in the heat of the moment.”

“What if he doesn’t believe that he deserves the punishment?” Steve asked, Peter’s voice echoing through his head  _I don’t want to be_ thanked _, hence the mask_.

“We have always been very fair punishers.”

_No sir._  “He called me ‘sir’, Tony. Like I wasn’t even his father anymore.  _Sir_.”

Tony grabbed Steve’s hand and led him out of the room. “Wait here,” he said. Steve stood with his hands in his pockets, not sure what to do, when less than a minute later, Tony dragged Peter into the room.

“Pop, I’m so sorry,” Peter rushed to say. “I was sorry and I shouldn’t have—” Peter’s voice broke as he choked back a sob. “I love you, pop.” He ran forward and wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist. “I didn’t mean it.”

Steve hugged his son back in earnest. “I know. I’m sorry too. I think we were both a little pig headed, wouldn’t you say?”

Peter squeaked and nodded his head against Steve’s chest. “I love you, you know that, right?”

“Of course,” Steve said. “And you know that I love you.”

Peter just nodded again. His breathing had slowed, and he was left with the shaky aftermath that followed a good cry. “I’m love you,” Peter murmured.

“I’m love you, too.” Steve smiled at the silly mispronunciation Peter used to babble when he was a baby. “How about we get cleaned up and have some fun?”


	58. Where They Take A Bath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Bath time

Steve was a brilliant strategist, planning everything to a T. Most of the time he could anticipate what the other parties involved would be doing and thinking. However,  he was never quite able to figure out what was going on in his boyfriend’s head. They’d been dating two years and Tony Stark was still able to surprise him.

It had been a long day. Steve had been working a press junket across the country in an effort to minimize the public panic following the hellicarrier incident in DC. He was tense, he was stressed, and he was finally able to come home and sleep in his own bed with the man he loved.

"Honey, I’m home!" he shouted half heartedly when came in the door, too tired to give it the proper amount of gusto.

Tony stuck his head out from around the corner so quickly that Steve had an inkling he had been waiting there. “So you’re working your way through that list,” Tony smiled. “I keep adding things and you keep doing ‘em.”

Steve gave a tired smile, opening his arms. Tony walked to him, wrapping his arms around Steve’s middle as Steve enveloped him. They stayed like that, locked together, swaying gently, until Tony mumbled into Steve’s chest. “Missed you.”

“I missed you, too.” Steve placed a kiss to the top of Tony’s head.

“I have a surprise for you,” Tony announced, pulling back.

“No surprises tonight, Tony. I’m too tired.”

Tony stomped his foot like a child. “But it was gonna be  _fuuuuun_ ,” he whined, a side of him that no one but Steve got to see.

“Is it going to take a lot of energy?” Steve asked.

“Nah.”

“Fine,” Steve conceded.

Tony beamed. “I’ll be right back. I just have to go set up.” With that, he ran from the room.

Steve bummed around, cleaned up the week’s worth of dishes Tony had accumulated—seriously, how hard was it to open the dishwasher—while he waited for Tony to return. When he did, he was dressed in nothing but a bathrobe. Tony tossed what was in his hand—Steve’s bathrobe—and Steve caught it.

“Put it on,” he instructed.

“Right here?” Steve asked.

“Strip right here and we’ll clean up later.”

“ _I’ll_  clean up later,” Steve reminded.

“You’ll clean up later. Now c’mon. We have to hurry.”

“Why?”

“Get your fucking bathrobe on and then we’ll go see, now won’t we.”

Steve decided to just do what Tony asked, stripping down and shrugging on his bathrobe. Tony beamed and reached his hand out for Steve. Steve laced his fingers through Tony’s and allowed him to lead him to their room.

Steve was expecting something on the bed, but there was nothing. Tony didn’t even pause in his stride, as he led Steve to, “The bathroom?” Steve asked.

“You looked like you could use some relaxation,” Tony explained, throwing open the door.

Tony had obviously prepared in advance. There were candles lit everywhere, lighting the room in a soft glow. The water was filled with bubbles and rose petals, the jets slowly stirring the water.

“This is amazing,” Steve said. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Steve dropped him robe, helping Tony off with his. The two climbed into the tub on opposite sides. Steve moaned as he sunk into the hot water. “Tony, you have no idea—”

“Oh, I have an idea. Shit! I forgot!” Tony shouted, splashing out of the water and running to the counter. If Steve was in any other state of mind he would have reprimanded Tony for getting water all over the floor, but he was in such a euphoric state he couldn’t be bothered.

“Here,” Tony said, handing a glass to Steve. The soldier cracked his eyes open to see Tony handing him a glass of wine. Steve smiled and took it from him, allowing Tony to sink back in the tub with his own glass.

“You’re perfect,” Steve smiled as he sipped his wine.

Tony didn’t respond, only brought the wine glass to his smiling face to take a long sip. “I have one other surprise,” he purred, his voice low. Steve was tired, but he wasn’t so tired that they couldn’t fool around.

“Oh?” he asked, dipping his hands below the water.

“BATH TOYS!” Tony grinned, reaching over the side of the tub and producing a speed boat and a pirate ship. “Can I be the pirate ship?” Tony asked.

Steve sat up from the lounging position he had previously been in. “No. You were the pirate ship last time. My turn.”

Tony made a face, but floated the toy in question over to Steve. “It would be easier if we just bought another pirate ship,” he grumbled.

“Then it wouldn’t be special,” Steve hummed, taking a sip of his wine before placing it on the ledge they had installed for this very purpose. 

They spent the rest of their evening splashing around, making bubble beards, and drinking wine like the adults there were.


	59. Where Tony Walks In On Peter and Wade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Steve/Tony walk in on Peter and Wade. ;)

Tony stood in the doorway, absolutely horrified. He didn’t know if it was worse to leave or to make his presence known, but his brain wouldn’t do either so he didn’t move a muscle as he watched his son… engaging in coitus.

When he finally regained motor control, he turned around and ran, accidentally slamming the door in the process. Realizing the noise had probably alerted the boys of his location, he booked it to he and Steve’s room.

"Peter… and Wade…" he wheezed, out of breath from running.

"Yes?" Steve asked.

"They’re…  _doing it_. Right now.”

"As in?" Steve asked, pushing back the covers and slowly getting out of bed.

"Fucking. Right now. In the living room. Because it’s 3am and I’m assuming they thought we actually had normal sleep patterns."

"Did you say something?"

There was a tentative knock on the door. “Dad?” asked a small voice.

“ _WHAT?_ " Tony boomed, more forcefully than he had intended.

"Remember that time at my fourteen birthday party when you and Pop fucked in the kitchen and me and Harry walked in on you? This is payback."

"Harry and I!" Steve corrected.

"Steve!"

Steve just shrugged. “He’s right.”


	60. Where Peter Turns One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Peter's 1st birthday

"He’s not actually going to remember it, Stark, so it doesn’t have to be as fabulous as you think," Clint whined. He was perched on the kitchen counter, dipping his finger into the frosting of the cake.

"There will be pictures and stories and I saw you eating the fucking frosting get your hand out of my child’s cake," Tony shouted as he ran back and forth from the living room to the kitchen.

"A child’s first birthday is only a big deal to the parents," Clint continued, once again sticking his finger into the cake.

Just then, Thor burst into the room. “The first anniversary of young Peter’s birth is upon us! Such a joyous occasion. Where shall I put the gift?”

"Uh… we said no gifts," Tony said. Peter did  _not_  need anything.

"But it is a companion," Thor explained, producing a puppy from behind his back. "Another young creature to share in the journey to adulthood."

"STEEEEVEEEE!" Tony shouted.

“ _What?_ " Steve ran into the room in a panicked frenzy, Peter clutched to his side.

"Thor brought us a puppy. Can we keep it?" 


	61. Where Steve Sings About the Periodic Table

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Steve learning some science talk from Bruce, and proceeds to woo Tony with it. :D

Steve didn’t understand half of what Tony was saying and it was kind of embarrassing. Steve didn’t have a very in depth education, and the world had changed so much - and so much had been discovered - that he had trouble keeping up with a lot of things,  _especially_  his genius boyfriend’s scientific ramblings.

He wasn’t stupid and he learned fast, but… not as fast as Tony.

So he went to Bruce for help.

It didn’t help. Bruce dumbed it all down, and Steve understood what he was saying, but he would never be able to have a conversation about it. He couldn’t expand of give opinions on the basics of science.

"This is hopeless," Steve groaned.

"Yes," Bruce admitted. "It’s not your fault, it’s just that there’s so much to learn. I do, however, have an idea."

"Really?"

"There’s a song and it’s pretty short and he’ll get a kick out of it."

—

"Hey sweetheart," Tony greeted when Steve came into his workshop later that afternoon.

“ _There’s antimony, arsenic, aluminum, selenium,_  
 _And hydrogen and oxygen and nitrogen and rhenium._ ”

"Are you singing the elements song?"

“ _And nickel, neodymium, neptunium, germanium,_  
And iron, americium, ruthenium, uranium,   
Europium, zirconium, lutetium, vanadium   
And lanthanum and osmium and astatine and radium," Steve continued without a beat.

"Seriously, sweetheart, where did you learn—"

“ _And gold, protactinium and indium and gallium_  
 _And iodine and thorium and thulium and thallium._ ”

"Steve!" Tony shouted, unable to keep the smile from his face.

“ _There’s yttrium, ytterbium, actinium, rubidium_  
And boron, gadolinium, niobium, iridium   
And strontium and silicon and silver and samarium,   
And bismuth, bromine, lithium, beryllium and barium.”

"The next verse is my favorite." Tony smiled, causing Steve to almost break his stride, but he continued on with,

 _“There’s holmium and helium and hafnium and erbium_  
And phosphorous and francium and fluorine and terbium   
And manganese and mercury, molybdenum, magnesium,   
Dysprosium and scandium and cerium and caesium   
And lead, praseodymium, and platinum, plutonium,   
Palladium, promethium, potassium, polonium, and   
Tantalum, technetium, titanium, tellurium,  
And cadmium and calcium and chromium and curium.”

"Let’s bring her home!" Tony shouted, then started singing along with Steve for the last verse.

“ _There’s sulphur, californium and fermium, berkelium_  
 _And also mendelevium, einsteinium and nobelium_  
 _And argon, krypton, neon, radon, xenon, zinc and rhodium_  
 _And chlorine, carbon, cobalt, copper,_  
 _Tungsten, tin and sodium.”_

"What possessed you to learn that?"

Steve shrugged. “Bruce taught it to me.”

"Well Bruce just got you laid."


	62. Where "You Can Paint Me With Your Sex Sweat"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: OPEN PROMPTS -eathy breathing- WHAT TO SAY WHAT TO DO. Uh.. UH... UHEDU - GIMME TEACHER AU STONY ;3; pleaseee

Tony never considered art to be important. Seriously, it was pretty, but why should high school age kids be forced to learn it? In kindergarten arts and crafts was fun and all, but…

His opinion greatly changed when they hired Steve Rogers to head the department.

"Hi, I’m Tony, head of the science department. I teach physics."

"Steve Rogers. Head of the art department. Drawing and painting."

"You can paint me with your sex sweat," Tony murmured before he could tell his brain not to. He didn’t believe in god and he still prayed to every being he had ever heard of that Steve hadn’t heard him.

He had.

Tony quit.

Steve showed up at his apartment later that week. “Does the offer still stand?”


	63. Where There's Court Mandated Anger Management Courses (and Tony's not Bruce's Significant Other)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: I had an idea for a prompt for a while now and since I don’t get those alot I’ll give it to you and you just think it over and then do it at your own time or not do it at all.it’s up to you really.
> 
> Court mandate anger management classes.( cause who would go out their own free will ) Steve is the therapist asks for significant others to show up Bruce has Tony as room mate, Clint and Natasha are a couple, and Thor and Jane.  
> The people who are getting the sessions are ( Bruce- Clint -Jane).I woukd elaborate more but I’m afried I’ll spam you with this
> 
> Bruce is stright but Betty was away on a conference and he only had Tony to bring.
> 
> You know what just forgot about it.you have enough on your plate already

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I messed up and made Natasha the one with the anger management issues ^^;

Tony figured himself to be a shit friend, but he was working on it, so when Bruce asked him to attend his court mandated anger management courses as his significant other, he agreed.

“Just to make it clear, I am not his signifiant other,” Tony told everyone that walked through the door.

“They get it Tony, you’re not gay.”

“I never said that, I just want everyone to know I’m a free agent,” he explained.

“In a room full of couples? I don’t think it really matters.”

Tony thought about that for a minute, then sat in a chair next to a woman with fiery red curls. “Are you in a committed relationship or would you be willing to stray from Purple Vest over there and ride the Tony Pony?”

Tony had no idea a woman could punch that hard.

After the debacle with the woman Tony now knew as Natasha and her boyfriend Clint, Bruce had dragged him to a set of chairs on the opposite side of the circle. “I wonder which one has the anger issues,” Tony muttered, holding his nose. Somehow it wasn’t bleeding and he was eternally grateful, though somewhat worried that there was a blood clot forming just behind his eyes, ready to burst and kill him.

“Sit down and shut up,” Bruce muttered, pushing Tony down into the seat.

“Brother Bruce!” Tony looked up to see a giant human being (at least he was pretty sure he was human) with long blond hair striding into the room, his arms extended for a hug. There was a small woman with brown hair trailing behind him.

“Thor,” Bruce greeted quietly, allowing Thor to embrace him, but not hugging back.

“Wait, your name is actually  _Thor_?” Tony exclaimed, his head throbbing when he shouted.

“Do you have a fucking  _problem_  with that?” the woman thundered, her voice more forceful than her body looked like it could produce. “I’m Jane by the way.”

The more Tony observed, the more obvious it was which of the couples was the party with the anger management issue. Jane, Natasha, and (obviously) Bruce. After what seemed like a decade of people milling around and greeting each other, some big blond guy came into the room, solo. Tony looked around, trying to find the signifiant other belonging to this gorgeous human being, but couldn’t.

“Okay, how about we get started?” Blondie said.

Oh.

Everyone straightened their chairs to face into the circle.

“Stop staring,” Bruce whispered.

“I’m not staring.”

“You’re staring,” Natasha said. Tony jumped—when had she come over—but let her take the seat next to him.

“We have a lot of new faces here today. I’m Steve, for those of you who don’t know. Since there are twice as many of you here today, why don’t we talk about why you’re here.”

The angry parties grumbled and Tony sat forward. This should be fun.

Bruce’s story he knew, of course. “I was working an odd job at a second hand store and some guy kept complaining about how we didn’t have anything in his size. I tried to explain to him that we don’t order things, that we take what we get, but he kept insisting. I got a little heated and—”

“He slammed the guy’s head into a rack!” Tony shouted. Everyone turned to him. “He needed stitches?” he continued, less sure of himself. Maybe he shouldn’t have interrupted. “I’m Tony by the way,” he mumbled.

“Hello Tony,” Mr. Therapist—Steve—said.

“I’m not his significant other,” he rushed to assure, as if it really mattered. He couldn’t have Steve thinking he was a kept man. “I’m his roommate. His significant other, Betty, who’s a knockout by the way, is away on business so he took me.”

“Thank you for sharing,” Steve said with a smile and Tony was almost sure that his gaze lingered a little longer that was appropriate. Interesting.

“I’m Natasha,” Natasha started, effectively taking Steve’s attention away from Tony. Tony may have hated her a little bit in that moment (even though he really had liked her up until that point). “I was at a Yankee’s/Sox game and I really hate the Yankees so I was cheering for the Sox, and some guy was bitching about how I live in New York and I’m at Yankee Stadium, and I was being disrespectful, so I punched him in the face, then proceeded to hang his buddy off the balcony. He lived, so I don’t see what the big deal was.”

Tony liked her again.

“The big deal, Natasha, was that you expressed your frustration in an unhealthy and harmful way, not only to yourself, but toward two other people,” Steve said calmly. Natasha rolled her eyes. Court mandated anger management.

“I’m Jane,” Jane said. “I, uh… I’m here because I want to be. I just kind of fly off the handle and I want to work on that.” Well, maybe not everyone was here because the law said they had to be.

Various other people piped up, Tony interrupted a lot, as if his input mattered. Steve would gently remind him not to talk over others. Tony did it more for the soul purpose of having Steve talk to him. He was obviously obvious (at least to Bruce and Natasha) because they kept elbowing him in the sides.

“When did we become friends?” Tony asked Natasha once the session was over.

“When I punched you in the face. You didn’t sweat or curse or turn me in, and that makes you a good guy, especially considering how much trouble I could get into.”

Tony smiled. “My pleasure. Let’s just not do it again.”

She shrugged. “I promise nothing.”

When Tony moved his attention away from Natasha, he realized Steve had already left. There was only one exit, so he jogged toward it. Steve was just outside the door, talking to Thor. It was apparently the end of the conversation, because Steve patted Thor on the arm and walked towards Tony.

“So, you’re not Bruce’s significant other?” Steve chuckled.

Tony smirked. “Well, I mean, he cooks for me and cleans up my messes and feeds my cats so he’s kind of my housewife.”

“You have cats?” Steve looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“Yeah. One of them I rescued from a bunch of kids trying to drown it. Her name is Champ. The other two are results of Champ being the only friendly cat in existence. They were both strays that kind of were always following Champ into the house, so I had them tested and kept them. Riley and Crack.”

“You named your cat Crack?”

“The thing is on crack, I swear.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

If Steve was interested in his cats, then… “You can meet them sometime, if you want. Champ’s really friendly.”

“What about Riley and Crack?” Steve couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the cat’s name.

“If you come around enough, they’ll warm up to you.” Tony was grinning like an idiot, but something had changed on Steve’s face. “Too much?” Tony asked. He’d always been bad with boundaries.

“No, no. I just never thought I’d have a crush on a cat lady.”

“I’m not a cat lady!” Tony shouted. “Wait, crush?”

Steve just smiled. 


	64. Where Peter Comes Home Crying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Peter's young and think's its normal for people to have two dad's or two mom's. He comes home crying on day because people were teasing him for thinking them so Steve and Tony have to explain to him that it's actually not the norm

“Daddddy! Papaaaa!” Peter ran into the room, wailing at the top of his lugs. Steve and Tony jumped up and ran to their son.

“Are you hurt?” Tony asked, frantically picking up their son.

“What’s wrong?” Steve looked like  _he_  was about to cry.

Peter just shook his head, tucking his head into Tony’s neck and sobbing harder. His little body shook as he cried and howled. Every once in awhile he’d howl “daddy” or “papa”. Eventually he calmed down and dissolved into a sniffling mess. By that point, the three had migrated to the couch.

“Baby what happened?” Steve gently pushed Peter’s curls off his face. Peter just shook his head, his lip quivering.

“Please tell us,” Tony urged. “So we can fix it.”

“You  _can’t_ ,” Peter shouted, startling Steve and Tony. Peter had always believed his dads could fix any problem. “Because you’re both daddies and I need a mommy but I don’t have one!” he started sobbing again. “Ev-v-vry b-body-y thinks I-I’m w-w-w-eird!” he hiccuped.

“Oh baby,” Steve whispered, pulling Peter to his chest. Peter resisted for a second, then sagged into him.

“Honey…” Tony sighed, not sure how to go about this. “You know how we said our family is different because we live with all of your uncles and your aunt?” Peter nodded. “And you know how Aunt Pepper and Uncle Happy are going to have a baby soon?” Peter nodded. “Well, most familiDo es are like Aunt Pepper and Uncle Happy. One mommy and one daddy. It takes a mommy and a daddy to make a baby.”

Peter sniffled again. “Then where did I come from?”

“Sometimes mommies and daddies can’t take care of their babies, so they give them to other people who can.”

“Do you not love me because you didn’t make me?”

Tony made a face. “If you don’t know that we love you, then we have failed you as your parents.”

“I know you love me,” Peter admitted.

“I know it’s really hard,” Steve said, “But you have to try to ignore those bullies.”

“And you can always tell them that we picked you and they’re parents are stuck with there miserable asses.”

“Tony!”

Peter giggled.


	65. Where Steve is Drunk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: hehe, this wasn't a prompt i just wrote it at 3am because i felt like it

“Tonyyyyyyyy,” Steve whined, throwing himself down on the couch next to Tony and laying his head in his lap. “I love you.”

“That’s nice, Steve,” Tony said, patting his friend’s head and not-so-subtly trying to shove it off his lap.

“No Tony you don’ un’ersan.” Steve struggled to sit up. Once he did, he leaned so close to Tony’s face the billionaire had to go cross-eyed to see him. “I’m  _in love_  with you.”

“You’re drunk.” Steve nodded, a grin on his face as Tony just pushed him back. “I thought you couldn’t get drunk.”

“Thor brought some serious shit from Asgard and I am  _loaded_ ,” he exclaimed. “Thas whu Clint kep sayin’ and I think it’s funny. Loaded. I’m not a  _gun_.” Steve covered his mouth and giggled.

Tony groaned and stood, shoving his hands under Steve’s arms and lifting him. Tony knew that Steve was standing on his own—Tony was no where near strong enough to lift that mass of muscle—but it was the thought that counted.

“It’s time to get you to bed, big guy.”

Steve dropped his head to Tony’s shoulder. He also, evidently, took that moment to go totally boneless and rest his entire weight on the shorter man. Tony stumbled backward but stayed upright.

“You’re nod  _lissnin_  ta me To-ny.”

“No, I am listening to you. You’re drunk and talking nonsense.” Tony had to tell himself that. How long had he been dreaming of Steve saying those words to him? How many nights had he fallen asleep wishing Steve was there to kiss his cheek goodnight? To scream his name as they fucked. To whisper his name as they made love.

“No, you’re nod,” Steve insisted. “Because I’m in love with you. You should be yelling at me or somethin’.”

Tony licked his lips and looked down. “Steve, please stop.”

Steve stood up, looking down at Tony. They stayed like that, a staring contest with the highest of stakes. Slowly, Steve leaned in. When he was a breaths away from Tony’s lips, the brunet turned his head to the side, deflecting Steve’s kiss to his cheek.

“If you still remember that you love me when you wake up, come find me, and I’ll listen,” Tony whispered into Steve’s ear. He guided Steve to bed. Once he had stripped the man, tucked him under the covers, and brought him a glass of water, he sat at the head of Steve’s bed. When he was sure the soldier was asleep, he pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I love you, too.”

—

Tony didn’t sleep a wink. He watched as the son rose, then made himself a cup of coffee, patiently awaiting Steve’s awakening. He checked the clock far too often, waiting and praying that Steve would wake up and say what he had said the night before.

He had been kept awake by the possibility of a yes and the fear of no.

“Tony?”

Tony jolted his head up. He had fallen asleep face down on the counter. He ran his hand over his face, forcing himself to wake up. “Steve.”

“I think we need to talk about last night.”

“Last night?” Tony realized how pathetic he sounded, unconvincingly attempting to play the fool.

“I… I said some stuff.”

Tony gave his most plastic smile possible. “You were drunk. We all say stuff when we’re drunk. Doesn’t mean we mean what we say.”

“Sometimes we do.”

“That’s true. I meant it when I said I’d pay the stripper’s way through college, but she slapped me for making fun of her,” Tony mused, smirking at the memory and very proud of his change of topic.

“I meant what I said to you last night.”

Tony took a long slug from his coffee. “No you didn’t.”

“Tony! Would you just shut up! I fucking love you, okay? And yeah, it took space booze to get me to finally admit it and I wish with all of my heart that you didn’t have to find out that way! In a way I’m glad you did, though, because I was so unashamed and I was just able to tell you that,” Steve sighed, his body deflating. “I am so in love with you, Tony Stark.” He voice lost all of it’s power and he sounded sad and tired and too torn for this.

“Please don’t be.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t deserve your love.”

“Shut up,” Steve snapped. “I heard you. You thought I was asleep but I wasn’t. You said you loved me, too.”

“Y-you heard that?” Tony cautiously returned the mug to the counter so as not to drop it. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“But I did. And it’s okay. Because it just means that we love each other.”

“Steve,” Tony protested, but the other man had gotten so close. Steve reached his hand up and ran his thumb across Tony’s graying temple.

“You told me that if I still loved you in the morning that you would listen. So, I held up on my end of the deal. Your turn.”

“I listened. I heard you. Now I—” Steve kissed him, cutting off his sentence. “Have no more arguments, please kiss me again and get drunk more often because this rocks.”


	66. Where Steve Sends Dick Pics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: tonee and steev get snapchat
> 
> NSFW

Tony downloaded Snapchat onto Steve’s phone as a joke. He wasn’t surprised to find that Steve loved it, but he was surprised to find that he, himself, enjoyed it. It was nice going to work and opening up a snap of Steve playing with their cats or making cupcakes. It actually made him really happy.

He mostly received them from Steve, but the blond had screenshotted more than one picture of Tony making a dumb face while hiding his phone under his desk.

Tony was currently stuck in a boring meeting, being talked at instead of talked to, when his phone vibrated a little. He discreetly pulled his it out of his pocket and smiled when he saw that he had a new snapchat from captstevestark.

He opened it, expecting to see him snuggling Crack or Riley—he always made sure to give them extra love because Champ seemed to be favored by everyone else. His eyes widened, however, when he held his finger over the name and saw Steve’s dick. After three seconds, the picture turned to a video of Steve in the mirror, jerking himself off.

Taking his finger off the screen, he cleared his throat and stood. “I’ll be right back.”

By the time he was out of the conference room, he had two more snaps. “ _Fuck,_ ” he whispered to himself. He opened the first, which was a comparatively innocent shot of his ass. When it changed, it was Steve’s face, giving the camera his bedroom eyes.  _Thinking of you_.

Tony opened Skype as soon as he slammed into the bathroom, video calling Steve.

“What the hell?” he shouted. Steve had evidently moved to their bed.

“Oh, hi. I’m assuming you got the pictures.”

“You saw that I opened them,” Tony sneered. “What the actual fuck? I’m in a meeting.”

“You shouldn’t be on your phone when you’re in a meeting, you know that.”

The camera on Steve was shaking a bit. “Steve… Steve are you still jerking off.”

Steve smirked. “Maybe.”

“I’m coming home. Don’t move.”

“Tony, you can’t come ho—”

But Tony was already on the move. He didn’t bother telling Steve to stop—his refectory period was non existent—but if he didn’t hurry up, he was going to fucking lose his mind.

He ran into his office, took the suitcase suit out from under his desk and sprinted up the stairs. When he was on the roof, he assembled the suit around himself and took off, desperate to get home.

It was killer, having to wait while the suit disassembled around him, but it took a relatively short amount of time to get to he and Steve’s room. He threw open the door, expecting Steve to still be sprawled naked on the bed, hopefully covered in his own jizz. But, no.

“Are you kidding me?” Tony gasped.

“I didn’t actually think you’d come home.” Steve was sat on the bed, Crack in his lap and Riley snuggling against his side.

“Well I  _did_ ,” he panted. This couldn’t be real. “What were you trying to accomplish, sending me dick pics while I’m at work?”

Steve shrugged. “I was horny and I figured I’d make you horny too. I thought you’d go jerk off in the bathroom or something, not come home.”

“We surprise mother fucker. I’m here, I’m horny, and I’m ready for you to fuck my brains out.”

Steve smiled. “Girls, shoo,” he pushed the cats away. “We need to have some grown up time.”


	67. Where Peter's In the Middle (of his dad's divorce)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Hey, could you please write me a prompt where Tony and Steve are divorced and Peter gets stuck listening to one side/kind of getting stuck in the middle. It's kind of what's going on with me at this moment and it would mean a lot to me if you wrote that for me. Thanks, and sorry for bothering you =/

Switching back and forth between his parents’ houses was a bitch and Peter hated it. Steve had moved to a different school district, but thankfully Tony had gotten primary custody so that Peter could finish out his senior year. It still sucked being That Kid.

Sure, people get divorced every day—kid’s are shipped back and forth between households—but not all of them are on the front page of the Daily Bugle, toting their backpack out the front door of Avengers tower.

“Hey Pop,” Peter grumbled, throwing his backpack on the couch. Peter’s room wasn’t finished yet—if he had it his way it would never be finished—so he was stuck sleeping on the pull out couch weekends and holidays.

“Pete, I’m so—”

“Yeah, I get it. You’re sorry. I’m just… I’m gonna go for a walk.”

—

“Dad?” Peter had come home from his walk and was now seating on the floor of Steve’s bathroom.

“ _What Peter? What’s wrong?_ ”

“Can I come home?” Peter decided not to mention the fact that his dad sounded stuffy and drained, as if he had been crying. Peter knew he had been. Dad had been doing a lot of crying lately.

Tony sighed. “ _Look, Pete—_ ”

“Yeah, I get it. This is my home now, too. But it’s fucking not!”

“ _Peter, language._ ” There was no malice in his voice and Peter had a feeling it was just a reflex from how Steve used to do the same thing.

“Dad,” Peter’s voice cracked. “I want to come home. I want pop to come home, too. Why can’t you resolve this fight like all the other ones?”

Tony was quiet for a long time. “ _It’s not that simple, Peter._ ”

“Why not?” Peter erupted, then quieted himself, knowing Steve was just in the other room. “You love each other and I just—” Peter choked on a sob. “How can you just forget twenty years together? How do you fall out of love?” He was one hundred percent sure his dad was crying again. Peter felt horrible, having pushed his father to tears. He felt even worse that he couldn’t be there to sooth him.

“ _I don’t know, Pete. I don’t know how you fall out of love._ ”

“Do you… do you still love pop?” Tony was silent on the other end of the line. “Oh my god.  _Dad!_  This could all be fixed! Jesus, why don’t you come down here, I’ll text you the address, and—”

“ _Peter,_ ” he whispered. “ _It doesn’t work like that. I still love your pop very, very much, and I doubt there will ever be a day when I don’t, but things just… they aren’t the same as they used to be._ ”

“So what? Jesus, you’ve put up with each other for this long! Why not keep going?”

“ _I have to hang up now, Peter. I’ll… I’ll call you tomorrow._ ”

“Okay.” He hung up the phone and rested his head on his knees. This was too much. He couldn’t play matchmaker with his parents. This wasn’t the fucking  _Parent Trap._  He was not Lindsey Lohan and there was only one of him.

He took deep breaths until he calmed himself enough to get off of the floor, rinse his face with cold water, and leave the bathroom.

“I heard your conversation. Your dad?” Steve asked, gesturing to the phone in Peter’s hand. He was sat on the couch, legs spread with his head hanging between them. There was a bottle of scotch in his hand. Peter’s gut clenched. His pops was trying to get drunk again.

“Uh, yeah.” Peter walked to the couch and sat down next to his father, wrapping his arm around him.

“How is he?” Steve croaked.

“He…” Peter considered lying, but that would get no one anywhere. “He cries all the time.”

“Nice try, Pete.” Steve let out a watery laugh. “We both know your dad doesn’t cry. They only time he ever cried was when you were born.”

“Yeah, see, that’s what I thought, too. Not the part about me being born, but the part where he never cries. Well, he’s been crying  _non-stop_.”

“Peter,” Steve shouted. “Lying is not going to get us back together.”

“I’m not lying!” Peter yelled, standing up. He knocked the bottle of scotch out of Steve’s hand and watched as it spilled on the carpet. “I just don’t understand how two people who love each other as much as you and pop do can possibly think a divorce is in the cards. I just—” Peter’s throat closed. “I don’t get it. You were the fucking picture for fucking perfect marriage because you fought all the fucking time but you just… every time you made up because you loved each other more than a stupid fucking fight and—” Peter was collapsed back on the couch, sobbing. Steve leaned into him, but he batted his hands away. “Don’t touch me,” he hissed.

“You know, you and dad are selfish pieces of shit. Did you know that? Think about it, long and hard. You love each other and are all gross and mushy until about three months ago and then all of a sudden, what? Did you just decide to stop loving him? Because I know he still loves you, and I just…” he shouted through his tears, knowing he was an ugly disgusting mess.

“I still love your dad.”

“ _Then what is the problem?_ ” Peter shouted. “Because he says he loves you and you say you love him. I don’t understand where the disconnect is.”

“I don’t either.”

“See,  _that’s_  the problem!” Peter bolted up. “I figured out the problem,  _Steve._  Neither of you know why you’re getting a divorce! You’re both telling me that you don’t understand and I can’t handle it. I just… I’m going to Gwen’s.”

“Peter, it’s late.”

“Cry me a river.”

Peter stormed out of the room without looking back.


	68. Where Tony Turns 65

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: It's almost my 21st birthday (July 11) and for personal reasons, I'm feeling really sad. Can you do a prompt where it's like Tony's 60 something birthday and he's feeling depressed because he's getting old and sickly while Steve barely ages? Some angst finished with fluff, please. Would really appreciate it.

Tony didn’t go to bed the eve of his sixty-fifth birthday. He couldn’t stand to wake up next to his husband, a man twenty years his junior with an immune system that kept him from aging normally. Instead, he holed up in his workshop, a place he hadn’t been able to make full use of in years due to the worsening arthritis in his hands.

He had been waiting for this day to come for a long time—the day when he could no longer keep up with his husband—and it seemed that it was finally here.

He knew Steve would find him eventually, but he figured he would at least stay hidden until morning. Instead, Tony was woken up before midnight by the feeling of Steve taking him in his arms and bringing him up to their room in a fireman's carry.

Tony groaned as Steve placed him in the bed, dragging the covers over him. He had to admit, crashing on the couch wasn’t as easy as it once had been. He was all aches and pains and cracking joints.

The younger man took him in his arms and buried his face in Tony’s salt and pepper hair, that was a lot more salt than pepper these days. Maybe he should start dying it.

“What’s wrong baby?” Steve whispered, as if speaking at a normal volume would cause Tony to run. Truthfully, it might have if Steve didn’t have him in an iron tight grip.

“Nothing. Please don’t worry about it.”

Steve looked as if he was debating pursuing the topic further, but decided instead to snuggle closer to Tony and whisper in his ear. “Happy birthday, sweetheart. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

—

“Steve?” Tony asked when he awoke to find that he was still in his husband’s arms. “Why’re you still here?”

“Because I like waking up next to you.”

“Please don’t say that.”

The blond looked like he had been punched in the gut. “Why?”

Tony wriggled his way out of Steve’s arms so he could look at him without having to go cross eyed. “Because sooner rather than later, you’re going to wake up one morning and I’m not going to be here anymore. I’m a lot older than you, Steve. Before you say anything, please think about it rationally. We always knew this was going to happen, but—”

“You’re turning sixty-five. You’re not dying.”

“The average life span for a man back in your day was sixty three years old. And that was a man who didn’t spend three decades of his life sleeping around, drinking like a fish, and doing random drugs for no other reason than he could.”

Steve kissed the corner of Tony’s mouth. “And now the average life span for a man is eighty. You’re not even close.”

“Fifteen years,” Tony grumbled. 

“Or more.”

“Or less.”

“Or less. But no matter what, I’ve already had twenty-one years of waking up beside you and even if you’re gone tomorrow, which you won’t be,” Steve assured before Tony could get worked up. “I’ll remember the way your eyes crinkle up when I make you laugh and the way it feels when you whisper my name when we make love. You’ve given me the best twenty-one years anyone could give another person.”

Tony was _not_ crying, dammit. “I love you,” Tony whimpered, his voice heavy with the tears he refused to shed. “You’re my best friend.”

“And you’re mine. You’re the most amazing thing to ever happen to me, Tony Stark and I will spend my every day trying to make you see how much I love you.”

“You were so young when we got married,” he mumbled. “Thought I was just your sugar daddy.”

“You don’t still think that, do you?” Steve asked, horrified.

“No,” Tony admitted. “But I do think a lot about you finding someone younger and better, who can keep up with you and do all the things that I can’t do anymore.”

“Well let me tell you right here and now that that is never going to happen. I’m going to kiss you now, and then I’m going to make love to you. When we’re done, I’m going to make you breakfast and bring it to you right here and we will spend the day in bed, watching movies and snuggling. How does that sound?”

“Perfect. But can we go back to sleep first?”

“You’re such an old man,” Steve chuckled. “Sure, we can go back to sleep.”

“Promise you’ll still be here when I wake up?”

“I promise.”


	69. Where Tony has a Method

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: When Tony gets nervous or scared, he counts to four repeatedly, or opens and closes his hand.. Steve see this and it either gets cute and fluffy, or steve plays pranks on tony like no fucking tommorw.

The first time Steve noticed it, he didn’t put that much thought into it. It wasn’t until they were all around the pool sunbathing that it started to make sense. Thor was throwing people in. Everyone would bob to the surface, laughing. It was all in good fun until Tony didn’t resurface and Steve had to dive in to get him.

When he put a shaking Tony on the edge of the pool, he saw that Tony’s hands were fists and he was repeatedly saying, “One… two… three… four.”

“Tony, Tony,  _are you okay?_ ” Steve whispered, taking Tony’s face in his hands.

Tony shook his head quickly, “ _One… two… three… four…_ ”

“What can I do?”

Tony shook his head again. “One, two, three, four.”

“Breathe with me, okay?” Steve asked and Tony nodded.

“One,” they said in unison, then Steve coached Tony into taking a full breath. “Two.” Breath. “Three.” Breath. “Four.”

“Do you need to go again?” Steve asked.

Tony shook his head. “Nope, I’m good. It’s been real. See ya around.”

Steve stayed floating at the edge of the pool as he watched Tony walk away. When the brunet has turned the corner, Steve was pulled back from his stupor. He pulled himself out of the pool and chased after Tony.

“Tony?” Steve asked hesitantly, coming around the corner to see Tony toweling off his hair.

“Yeah?” he asked, turning around.

“You okay?”

“What made you think otherwise?”

“You seemed a little freaked out when Thor threw you in the pool.”

“I’m fine,” he said with a shrug and turned away, continuing to dry himself off.

“Are you sure?” Steve asked.

“Yes!” Tony shouted, turning around. “I am perfectly fine!” He threw the towel at Steve and stomped off again. “Don’t follow me,” he muttered. Steve would have missed it if he wasn’t paying such close attention to the other man. His every sane thought told him to chase after Tony, but he decided to follow the man’s wishes and let him go.

“Is Anthony alright?” Thor asked when Steve returned. Everyone had gotten out of the water and was at a different stage of drying off.

“Yeah, he’s fine,” Steve mumbled.

—

Steve wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed it before. Every time Tony was set on edge, he would clench his fists and count. Sometimes he only had to do it once, but Steve had caught him going through the ritual ten or more times in an effort to calm himself.

A method. He had only gone to one session with the therapist SHIELD had assigned to him when he first thawed, but he remembered her talking about methods. It was a strategy to calm down when agitated. It can be used for a whole slew of things.

Including PTSD.

He didn’t like to assume things, but he had had a feeling for a long time that Tony had psychological repercussions after the Battle of New York. He hated the idea of Tony suffering the way he did.

Steve Rogers didn’t know how not to be brave, so when he found Tony on the couch, he sat down next to him and pulled the genius into his arms. He felt the other man stiffen, so elected to let go.

“Not that I’m not a cuddler, but, uh, what was that for?”

“I understand. Why you do the counting. It’s a method, isn’t it?”

“Why would you think that?” Tony asked. Steve couldn’t help but notice the flash of panic he saw streak across Tony’s face.

“Look, Tony, it’s okay. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m damaged goods, Rogers,” Tony admitted. “There’s a lot to be ashamed of.”

Steve didn’t know what else to do, so he leaned in and pulled Tony in for a hug. Tony went rigid for a moment before letting himself go boneless in Steve’s arms. He buried his face in the soldier’s neck and just focused on breathing.

“It’s scary, I know,” Steve whispered, rubbing his hand up and down Tony’s back.

“You… you too?” Tony didn’t pull away as he asked.

“Yeah. Me too.”


	70. Where Tony is Jealous of Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: So I got a prompt for you. well I´ve never wrote prompts and my English isn´t good so I´m soo sorry for spelling mistakes and stuff (and sorry for being an anon I´m so shy *hides*)... ANYWAY: Tony is jealous of Sam and he fears that steve doesn´t need Iron man in his team anymore cause he has Falcon in his team (they´re both flying and stuff). So Tony tries to show steve that he can´t be replaced, while Steve tries to tell Tony that ther is no need for him to be jealous cause he only loves tony♥

Tony was the Eyes in the Sky. It was his job. Sure, he was able to blast things with his repulsors and he wasn’t too bad at hand to hand (metal), but his main job was to contain and make sure that everything was going safely for those on the ground. If they needed him, he could swoop down to the rescue.

But so could Sam Wilson.

He wasn’t an Avenger, but Steve had brought him to the tower, insisting he could help. Tony knew the tech that made Sam fly. Of course he did; he’d invented it. He didn’t know if Steve hadn’t seen the logo or if he’d decided to ignore it, but right there on Sam’s wing, the words Stark Industries were visible.

He ignored it at first, but a few battles in, he realized that Sam was taking over his job.

“Falcon,” Tony heard Steve call through the comms. He ignored the sinking feeling in his gut. “What’s it look like from up there?” Tony was circling just overhead, closer to Steve than Sam, but Steve had called to his new BFF instead of him.

“Looks clear,” Tony called in, not waiting for Sam to respond. “I think we’re good.”

“Sam?” Steve repeated, as if he wouldn’t believe the outcome unless he heard it from his winged companion.

“Looks clear,” Sam echoed.

“Good job everyone,” Steve announced. Tony looked down to see the grounded Avengers gathering around Steve. Tony contemplated heading to debrief, but what did it matter? They didn’t need him. He took off towards the tower, itching to bury himself in work and liquor.

—

“Hey baby,” Steve mumbled, coming up behind Tony and wrapping his arm around the smaller man’s waist. Steve kissed his shoulder. “Why didn’t you come to debrief?” He kissed him again.

“Too busy.” Tony shrugged Steve off. His boyfriend wasn’t getting the picture, because he took the swivel chair Tony was in and spun him so they were face to face.

“I told Coulson that I would have a serious talking to with you for not coming,” he purred. “But I just don’t feel up to that.” Steve was a handsy fellow, Tony had learned that early on in their relationship, and now was no exception. The pads of Steve’s fingers ghosted over Tony’s bare arms. Tony shivered. Under any other circumstances, he would have been putty in Steve’s hands by now, but as it stood, he couldn’t bring himself to give himself over.

“Look, I’m busy. Can we talk about this later?”

“What are you working on?” It seemed as if Steve was finally picking up that something was wrong. He looked over Tony’s desk to see that he had been drawing a picture of a goat that kind of resembled, “Sam?” Tony covered the drawing. “Do you… do you not like Sam?”

“Sam’s great. Sam’s awesome. Sam’s the best addition to the team ever. Now, can you please just leave so I can get back to work?”

Steve looked at the ground, obviously hurt. Tony ached to apologize but didn’t speak up. His boyfriend left the room without another word.

Tony was a despicable human being.

—

“Steve?” Tony squeaked, poking his head through their bedroom door. It was getting close to when Steve went to bed. Tony had been waiting until now to resurface from the workshop so as to talk to him. “Can I come in?”

“It’s your room, too,” Steve snapped and, okay, Tony deserved that.

He got into bed, dirty work clothes and all. Steve didn’t flinch away, but he didn’t look too pleased either. “Okay, honesty hour.”

“Yes?” Steve prompted.

“I’m not Sam’s biggest fan. He’s a great guy and I’m glad that he’s your friend but…”

“But what, Tony?”

“It’s always about him. Lately it’s been ‘Sam said this’ and ‘Sam had an idea for battle’ and ‘Sam just told the funniest joke’. Between me and Thor and sometimes Rhodey, we don’t really need another flier. Today alone, I was right above you and you called on him to assess the perimeter.”

“Are you jealous of Sam?” Steve sounded worried.

“No. Maybe. A little bit.” Tony sighed. “A lot.”

“Sweetheart.” Steve pulled Tony into his arms, not caring about the dirt and grime dirtying his pajamas. “I love you so much. Please don’t forget that. You’re the person I want to spent the rest of my life with.”

“Well, I didn’t think you were cheating, but now I kind of do.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. Okay, let me rephrase. Sam is my good friend, but that’s all he is. I might have gone a little overboard, making everything about him. You’re right. It’s just… nice to have a new friend. If I remember correctly, when you and I first started spending time together, all of your stories revolved around me.”

“S’different,” Tony grumbled, refusing to admit he might have overreacted.

“How?”

“I was in love with you.”

“I’m flattered. I am not, however, in love with Sam. I’ll dial it down a bit, how does that sound?”

“Perfect,” Tony hummed, already half asleep in the strong arms of the love of his life.


	71. Where Tony Gets Hurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Tony is severely injured in a battle, the blast went through his armor like a hot knife through butter. Steve could only stand and watch his "not-a-friend" get blasted. That moment, the moment they thought they would loose Tony. Steve knew he might like Tony more than he thought.

“Iron Man, do you copy?” Steve shouted into his comm. He looked around, trying to locate his fellow Avenger, but found nothing. “Iron Man!”

“Right here, Cap,” he heard the man quip as he swooped around the corner. “Get your star spangled spandex out of your ass.”

Tony, it seemed, was too busy insulting Steve to see the thing (Steve wasn’t exactly sure  _what_  to call what they were fighting) come up behind him. The shout of warning fell from his lips as he watched the blast go through the armor like butter through a knife.

“Tony!” he shouted, codenames be damned. There was a man inside that suit that was more than just a public figure. He and Tony weren’t close, but since moving into the tower, he had realized that Tony Stark was a lot different than the man Steve had pegged him to me.

Tony was responding and he wasn’t stopping. He plummeted through the air, racing towards the ground. Steve was sent back to the first time they fought together, watching the man who had saved the entire city of Manhattan and possibly the world, fall towards the ground.

“Thor!” Steve screamed, panicked. Tony wasn’t slowing down.

“On it!” he heard the God bellow. He looked up and watched as the caped hero flew towards Iron Man, catching him with ease. Steve ran to where they landed, ripping off the faceplate.

“Tony?” Steve’s voice was shaking. So were his hands. His entire body was quivering. His hands were drawn to the gash in the side of the suit. No, it went deeper. Tony’s side was bloodied and torn, the flesh singed around where the blast had hit him. “Thor,” Steve demanded, scooping Tony up in a fireman’s carry. “Take us to SHIELD medical.”

“But Steven, the battle rages on.”

“I don’t care. Take us there now.”

—

Steve was helpless, sitting in the hard plastic chair of the waiting room. He was still in full costume, sans cowl and gloves. He twiddled his thumbs round and round, trying (and failing) to forget how helpless he had been. He could only stand and watch as his not-a-friend get blasted.

The sight of the medical team shoving a tube down his throat to help him breathe and taking saws to the Iron Man suit in hopes to get him out was enough to haunt his every thought as he waited for news.

Why had he been shaking like he had? He had lost soldiers. Tony wasn’t his first and he wouldn’t be his last, giving his line of work. He had watched countless people die, and while it wasn’t something he was particularly proud of, he was damn good at keeping himself in check until he was alone and out of danger.

But that moment… that single moment when he thought he would lose Tony. It was like those first moments in the ice again, when the water and ice filled his lungs and he felt searing pain, then numbness. That was what it was like watching Tony fall.

Steve didn’t realize he was crying until someone’s hand was on his shoulder and a voice was asking him if he was alright. He looked up and saw Agent Hill. “I’m fine,” he choked out, his voice heavy with tears and guilt.

“Don’t lie to me, Steve,” she soothed. “What’s wrong.”

“I… is he going to be okay?”

“Stark?” Maria laughed. “Stubborn bastard refuses to die. He’s totally fine aside from the gash in his side. He’s stable and out of surgery and now we’re just waiting for the anesthetic to wear off.”

“So he’s going to live.”

“Yes. Do you want to see him?”

The knowledge that Tony was alright was enough for Steve, at least for now. He excused himself and went back to the tower. He stripped and threw his uniform down the laundry chute, where JARVIS would have it sent to the cleaning facility and returned fresh to his closet for when he needed it next. As he showered, he fought away his thoughts of Tony. He had no reason to still be worried. Hill had assured him Tony would be fine.

He couldn’t get the genius out of his mind.

When he finally dragged himself from the shower, he realized he was actually exhausted, the adrenaline from the battle having worn off. He crawled into bed ass naked and asked JARVIS to turn off the lights. Once he was plunged in darkness, he was left alone with his thoughts.

He was left alone with Tony.

—

When Steve woke up in a cold sweat he knew he was fucked. He had been fighting it during his waking hours since the accident, but without his conscious mind to fight back, his sleep addled brain had gotten the answer.

He liked Tony. Like  _liked_  him. Maybe even loved, but it was far too soon for that.

Still exhausted, he threw back the covers, sprang from bed, dressed himself to look somewhat presentable, and rushed to his bike. He went as fast as traffic would let him.

It was pat four in the morning when he burst into Tony’s hotel room. He wasn’t surprised that the brunet was awake.

“Good, you got my call.”

“Call?” Steve asked.

“Yeah, I just called you. I need you to spring me. I can’t stand this fucking place.”

Steve smirked. “You have to stay here, Tony. A blast literally went through you.” This was easy. He had never realized how easy it was to talk to Tony, simply because he had never tried.

“Oh come off it. It didn’t go through  _me_. It went through the suit. I was simple grazed.”

“Your entire side is charred and raw.”

“Grazed, incinerated, same thing.” Tony flapped his hand about noncommittally while Steve crossed to the chair on the other side of the room, pulling it close to Tony’s bed. “Wait,” Tony started. “If you’re not here to get me out, why are you here?”

“I…” Steve sighed. He hadn’t really thought this through. “I was really worried about you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re a good guy, Tony.”

“I thought I was just a guy pretending to be a hero.”

Steve glanced down, ashamed. “I never apologized, did I? For the awful things I said.”

“No. You don’t have to, either. They’re all true.”

“But they’re not, Tony. You are the guy to make the sacrifice play. You are the guy who will put yourself on the line and let the other guy crawl all over you. You  _are_ , and I’m so sorry I didn’t notice it before—” Steve’s voice caught. Damn it. “You’re a good person, Tony.”

“What’s got you all sentimental?”

“It may have taken you plummeting to your death for me to realize that I like you.”

“Like me, or  _liiiiiiike_  me?” Tony grinned, winking.

“Only time will tell, Mr. Stark.”


	72. Where Steve Passes Out At Debrief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: I’m not sure how this came into my head, but here goes: After a successful mission, Steve is more worn out than he wants to let on, and in debriefing, Tony notices something’s sort of off. While he’s watching him and trying to figure out what’s wrong, Steve passes out (like literally keels over), and Tony catches him and is basically being a worried boyfriend while he tries to wake him up ( which he eventually does).

Steve was limping. Steve never limped. Tony had known Steve Rogers for almost three years and never once had he seen him in anything else but perfect condition. Breathless, of course, but never weak. He refused to let on to this little observation, because the rest of the team didn’t notice, so he—being a third party observer with no close connection to the person in question—wouldn’t notice either.

Sometimes keeping their relationship secret was a bitch.

“Are you okay?” Tony whispered as they walked into debrief.

“Yeah. Fine.” Which was not fine. Steve was a big fan of  _reassuring_  Tony that he was alright, or happy, or basically anything. The fact that his tone was clipped and bitter spoke volumes.

“Okay. Let’s just sit.” He could see the relief in Steve’s eyes as the team finally made it into the debriefing room. He moved to the front of the table, as he would have on a normal day, but Tony could see that his boyfriend’s body ached to fall into the first chair he passed.

He followed him to the front, sitting in the seat directly to his right. “Sweetheart, are you sure—”

“Don’t call me that here,” Steve hissed, adjusting himself in the seat.

Tony licked his lips and looked away, dropping the Iron Man helmet on the table in front of them. The thud made Steve jump, then wince, but Tony didn’t care. Well, maybe a little. If Steve was going to be a prick, then fine.

The debrief was uneventful. Tony made a snide comment, everyone rolled their eyes, Steve scolded him. It was, all in all, a typical debrief. Until it wasn’t anymore.

“Look, I think we get the picture,” Steve insisted. “These meetings are always the same and they’re stupid. We have to fill out the paperwork so why do we have to listen to you bark at us, too? I’m done.” He stood up and started toward the door. Halfway there, he fell to his knees, clutching his torso.

Tony let go of all of the anger he had felt towards his boyfriend the second he watched the man lose consciousness. He ran to his side, kneeling on the ground at Steve’s head.

“Steve?” he croaked. Steve never  _passed out._  “Steve can you hear me? Steve?” he started slapping Steve’s cheeks lightly, trying to wake him. “Steve c’mon. Wake up.” He looked down at where Steve was clutching his middle. Tony pulled back his hands to reveal blood pooling from under the suit. The cut hadn’t ripped the fabric, but Tony found the zippers with ease (he’d peeled the suit from Steve plenty of times) and opened up to reveal a deep gash in Steve’s stomach.

“Oh my god,” he whispered. “Steve? Steve, can you hear me? We’re gonna get you fixed up, okay. It’s not a big deal. Just a scratch really. Okay, it’s gonna be okay.”

“He can’t hear you, Stark,” Fury interjected.

“They say that people in comas can hear their loved ones talking to them, so why should a man who’s simply fainted not be able to do the same?”

“Loved one?” Natasha’s eyebrow was quirked.

Tony decided not to figure out an answer to that, instead turning all of his attention back to Steve. “Steve? Sweetheart, we’re gonna fix you. I promise.”

“Sweetheart? I  _knew_  it!” Bruce shouted. Everyone turned to him, eyes wide. Tony, oblivious to his friend shouting, leaned in closer and put his forehead on Steve’s cheek.

“You’re losing a lot of blood, baby. I need you to wake up for me so you can just let me know that you’re okay and then we can get you all fixed up, okay? I promise.” He leaned in, because fuck everyone, and placed butterfly kisses all over Steve’s face. “Please wake up,” he said through his tears. “Please wake up.”

Steve stirred in his arms and Tony almost jumped out of his skin with excitement. “Whu happened?” Steve mumbled.

“You passed out,” Tony said in as soothing a voice as he could. “You’re okay though. You just lost some blood.”

Steve’s hands went down to the cut in his abdomen. When he pulled them back, there was nothing on them. “Superhealing,” he smirked. “Gotta love it.”

“You scared me,” Tony breathed, yanking Steve up and mashing their mouths together. “Jerk.”


	73. Where They Go to Costco

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Imagine Steve and Tony going to Costco

Tony wasn’t sure how, but Steve had conned him into going to Costco. It was probably the way he grabbed his ass the second he asked, causing Tony to yelp out a yes without thinking it through.

So here they were. The shopping cart Steve had grabbed out in the parking lot had a squeaking wheel and kept veering to the left. No amount of complaining for Steve to push worked, so Tony continued to wrench the thing to the right.

"Do I really have to go in?" he protested one final time as Steve stepped in front of the censor, causing the oversized doors to swoop open. They were hit with a blast of cool air, a wonderful relief to the humid July day. It was almost enough to lure Tony in without a fuss.

"Tony, it’s not that bad."

"It’s a warehouse store, Steve. It’s like K-Mart’s satanic older brother."

"Have you ever been in a K-Mart?" Steve asked.

"No," Tony admitted, toeing the ground with his shoe. "But I hear they’re scary."

Steve leaned close, putting his lips to Tony’s ear. “Do this for me now, and I’ll do something for you later.”

Tony shivered at Steve’s warm breath ghosting over his skin. His mind ran rampart with all of the things he could make Steve do for him. Do  _to_  him. He wasn’t sure if it was worth it—Steve was always more than eager to try stuff in the bedroom—but Tony was not above being bribed by sex.

“ _Fiiiiine_ ,” he groaned and pushed the cart into the store.

They were greeted with high ceilings, florescent lights, and racks of bulk items towering at cringing heights above them. Tony stopped dead. What the hell was this place?

Steve led the way, weaving through the isles as if he had been born in a fucking Costco. Tony followed him, the cart having it’s own mind and wheeling this way and that.

They unavoidably ended up in the food section and that’s when Tony saw it. Jars of Nutella the size of Steve’s head. He was drawn to them like a moth to a flame. “Parking” the cart, he grabbed the jar with both hands, bringing it slowly to him as if it were going to break if he wasn’t careful.

"It’s beautiful," he breathed, turning it in his hand. "Steve!" he gasped, turning to his boyfriend. "Look at this thing!"

Steve covered his grin with the side of his hand. “Yes, Tony. It’s called buying in bulk.”

"I didn’t know they had good things here. I thought it was all generic items." _  
_

"Have you not paid attention at all. We’ve literally looked at all of your favorite brands." Steve steered Tony to the cart. Glancing into it, Tony was surprised to see that the cart _he had been pushing_  was filled with Velvita and Trix cereal. “That’s what you get for going on autopilot.”

After that, there was no stopping him. He was running through the isles, pushing the cart fast and jumping on the rail to ride it across the concrete floor. He pulled Steve onto the display mattresses for kisses, draped ridiculous articles of clothing across Steve’s body, took a running jump into the wheely chairs to see how far he could get. He was awed at the fact that there were some actually decent televisions for sale. He filled their cart with worthless junk, then another.

"Tony, you have to stop."

"Look, we’re on the cover of  _People_.”

"That we are." Steve had seen it in the gas station the other day.

"This is a weekly thing for you and I," Tony decided. "You and me. Costo. It’ll be an awesome thing to do on date night. OO! What if we sneak in at night and go bowling with various items we find around? Or or or we can climb the displays. Steve!  _Steve_.”

"Okay sweetheart, I think we’ve had enough warehouse shopping for one day," Steve scolded gently, steering his cart toward the front of the store to check out.

"Are there any other chains? Of warehouse stores? Like there’s Wal-Mart and K-Mart and Target. Are there other Costcos?"

"Well," Steve gave a bashful grin. "There’s one I know of down the street, but I’m not sure you’re mature enough to go there."

Tony crossed his arms with a huff. “I am a grown man.”

"BJ’s."

"Here? Now? Uh… okay," Tony shrugged, changing directions to find a corner where no one would see.

"No!" Steve shouted, reaching out and grabbing Tony’s sleeve. "The store’s name is BJ’s."

Tony, if only for a second, looked  _disappointed_. “Oh. Well. That’s misleading.”


	74. Where Howard's An Abusive Asshole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: some kind of high school au where steve and tony are boyfriends and howard is a really abusive asshole and he is hurting tony and one time tony calls steve in the middle of the night because he is terrified due to the fact that howard wasn't supposed to be back home yet but he is and he is in very bad mood and yelling and stuff. When Steve picks up the phone, at first he is a bitt annoyed cause he thinks tony is making fun again, but then he hears tony's voice cracking and is alarmed
> 
> tw: verbal abuse  
> tw: mentions of physical abuse  
> tw: homophobic slurs

_Now I’m speechless, over the edge and just breathless, I never thought that I’d catch this lovebug again—_

_Now I’m speechless, over the edge and just breathless, I nev—_

_Now I’m speechless, over—_

_Now I’m spe—_

“What, Tony?” Steve snapped. His boyfriend had this annoying little habit of getting drunk and calling him in the middle of the night. Did he love talking to Tony at three in the morning? Sure, if doing so didn’t require him to wake from a deep sleep.

Suddenly, there was the sound of the phone dropping and the call went dead. Steve pulled the phone away from his ear to realize that, yes, the call had ended. He yawned, put his phone on his nightstand, and rolled over, pulling the blanket up to his ears. He wriggled a bit, finally got comfortable when,

_Now I’m speechless, over the edge and just breathless, I never—_  
“Seriously? Stop dicking around” he shouted, then cringed. He hoped he hadn’t woken his mom up. Looking at the time, though, she probably wasn’t even home from her night shift at the hospital. “ _What?_ ”

“Steve?” Tony whispered and he sounded _wrecked._ “Steve, I’m scared.”

Steve sat up bolt straight in bed, immediately at attention. Tony didn’t sound drunk or joking. He sounded terrified. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“How—” Steve heard glass shatter. “Howard came home early.” Steve could tell that Tony was on the verge of tears; he could hear it in his voice. “He’s mad.”

“Why is he mad?” Steve asked, getting out of bed and looking around the floor for some pants. He was no stranger to Howard’s rage, and he had more than once picked up the broken pieces of Tony. He had long since learned that it was best to get there as soon as possible.

“He… he found out about—” Tony cut off when he heard screaming in the background. Steve couldn’t make out exactly what the man was saying, but he knew it couldn’t be good.

“Honey, what did he find out about?” Steve cradled the phone between his cheek and shoulder while he put on socks.

“You,” Tony hissed and the line went dead.

Steve let it fall to the bed, his heart pounding in his chest. Howard Stark was a homophobe, plain and simple. Tony had made Steve promise when they started dating that there would be absolutely _no_ affection in the house unless they were in his room and the door was locked. Even then, Tony was skittish.Tony was even worried about going out on dates, in fear the some paparazzi might see him. Most of time they went out as a group.

Steve paced back and forth, running his fingers through his hair, wondering if his presence would make it better or worse. When he went over there, he usually snuck in Tony’s window so that Howard wouldn’t see, but what if Tony’s father managed to get into his room?

_Now I—_

“Are you okay?” Steve answered immediately.

“Steve, I—” The line went dead again.

Steve ached to go to Tony’s house, but he didn’t know what he would do if Howard saw him. Steve was a pro at ignoring verbal assault and he could even take a hit, but after Steve left, Tony would be alone with his father.

He slipped on his shoes.

_Now I’m speechless—_

“Steve please come get me out.”

“How?”

“I don’t know.” Tony was whispering. Steve felt himself crumble.

“Tony—” Steve’s voice cracked. “I’m so sorry.”

Suddenly there was a slam on Tony’s end of the line and Steve jolted. “Is that your faggot boyfriend you’re talking to?” Howard slurred. He was very, very drunk.

“No, sir,” Tony assured. Steve was amazed at how strong Tony was able to keep his voice when mere seconds ago he was crumbling.

“Who were you talking to?” 

“Remember I was telling you about the AI I was developing—”

“The one named for the butler?” Howard spat.

Steve wasn’t sure if he should hang up or not. He figured Tony’s phone was forgotten on his bed. He hated himself for being curious but elected to eavesdrop nonetheless.

“Well, actually it’s an acronym. Just A Rather Very Intelligent System. J.A.R.V.I.S. All caps.”

There was the sound of a smack and Steve dropped the phone. He didn’t care. He just didn’t care anymore. He ran out the door without a shirt on and grabbed the car keys. Being the conscious driver he was, he grew very nervous as he sped around corners and ran stop signs, but there was no one on the road at three a.m. and he had a place he needed to be.

His phone didn’t start singing _Lovebug_ and that terrified him. If Howard had left, Tony would have made sure to contact Steve to let him know he was okay. He turned onto the road that led to the gate that led to the driveway to Stark Manor.

_Now I’m speech—_

“ _Tony_ ,” Steve sighed.

“I know you’re getting all hot headed and are probably on your way over here but I really need you to go home. Okay, I’m fine. He’s gone, I’ve got some frozen peas in my mini fridge to put on my face, and everything is going to be alright. Don’t give him reason to get riled up again.”

“Okay,” Steve sighed, driving onto the lawn to turn around.

“And I know I said to come get me out, but the worse is over so I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Steve asked, idling in the middle of the driveway.

“Just go home and we’ll FaceTime until we fall asleep, okay?”

“That sounds good. See you soon. I love you.”

“Yeah, yeah, lovebug.”


	75. Where Teen Peter is Suicidal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PROMPT: Can you do one where peter is a teenager and he is suicidal and he tells his parents because he's scared and they help him
> 
> TW: suicide attempt  
> TW: self harm

Peter was thirteen years old the first time he thought about killing himself. He had snuck into his dad’s medicine cabinet and swiped a handful of anxiety meds. He waited a few days, hoping his dad would notice the missing pills and confront him. Help him.

His dad never came looking. Realization dawned on Peter; his dads didn’t care about him. They would have come to him by now.

So he searched out help. It took him over a month to get up the courage to go to the school’s counselor. He told her everything—the stress of growing up a celebrity child; his doubts about his self worth, stemmed from the thought that his birth parents gave him up; the torment of Flash, the bully who had used him as both a verbal and physical punching bag on more than one occasion—and she told him it would all pass soon. He was probably just sad and stressed, she said. She let him lie down on the cot to calm down. There, he cried himself to sleep only to be woken up when his pop came to pick him up from school.

While the pills were still in his drawer, he didn’t take them in hopes that maybe his dads would figure out something was wrong and come to help him. They told him they loved him and asked how his day was at school, but it didn’t seem like enough. He didn’t want to have to ask for their love. Hadn’t they done enough? They took him in when he had no one. He was most likely a burden to them now.

He snuck into his dad’s workshop and grabbed an inconspicuous, hand turn pencil sharpener. It was pink, a gag gift from uncle Clint. He reached in and flicked off the razor, discarding the pink plastic in the trashcan. 

He cut himself then, and nearly every day for the next three years. At sixteen, he still had no real friends, was pining after a girl way out of his league, and hidden in long pants and hoodies during the scorching ninety-degree days of New York City in summer.

“Dad?” he asked one day, dragging his feet as he entered the kitchen.

“Yeah?” his dad asked, newspaper forgotten on the table. Peter was stunned that his father had given him his full attention so quickly.

“Am I…” Peter trailed off, absolutely no clue where to start.

“Are you what?”

Peter hung his head. He didn’t even know what he had been trying to say. “Doesn’t matter,” he mumbled and shuffled off to his room. He had never forgotten about the pills in his drawer, tucked away in a small snack bag inside an old Avengers pencil case. He went into the drawer and pulled it out. He unzipped the pencil case.

Who was there to mourn him. His zero friends? His eternally honeymooning parents who never bothered to realize that their son needed them? His aunts and uncles who lived in the same building but barely ever visited?

He could count on one hand the people he would be leaving behind that might give a shit. The first was Beth, his pet tarantula. Pop gave her to him last Christmas. Beth had never left his room because dad was scared of him. Beth was easily his best friend. He loved his dads and they’d probably be pretty bummed out if he was gone, but they had each other, which had always seemed to be enough. Aunt Natasha was tight with pop and always made a point of making small talk when they ran into each other.

Four. Three people and an arachnid that might mourn him. _Might_. Would Beth even know if he was gone? Probably not. Without Peter to feed her, she’d die fairly quickly anyway, so maybe they’d be reunited in the afterlife, if that were a thing.

Two hours had passed since he got the pills out of the drawer. A bottle of scotch he had swiped from his dad’s study a few months back was propped against his knee as he brought out a pencil and a piece of paper. Another twenty minutes came and went as he attempted to think of what to write. Nothing came to mind, so he just wrote in the middle of the page.

_Sorry._

He opened the ziplock baggy and reached in. The little blue pill was crumbling and there was powder on his fingers when he pulled his hand out. “Do it, you fucking coward,” he hissed at himself. _Like a bandaid._  

He dumped the contents of the bag into his palm and tossed them back, chasing the pills with the scotch. His heart was pounding. He had actually done it. A small part of him felt proud that he had steeled himself long enough to… kill himself.

Holy shit. He’d killed himself. Not yet, but his body was currently in the process of soaking up the toxins that would stop his life. Should he lie down? He wasn’t entirely sure how the whole thing worked. He, like all the people in the world when confronted with an important question, Googled it.

“ _The body will attempt to rid itself of the toxins by retching_ ,” he read softly to himself. “ _However, it is likely that the party experiencing the over-dose will be unconscious. If not in the proper position, on the side, they will most likely die by choking on the regurgitated fluid_.” His heart was pounding out of his chest and he prayed that it was because he was nervous, not the medication started to take over his body. “ _Daaaaaad!_ ” he shouted, bolting up from his desk chair and sprinted out of his room. Down the hall, to the left, second door on the right. He started pounding on it. “Dad! Pop! _Please come out!_ ” Hot tears were streaming down his face. He fell to his knees, sobbing, his forehead pressed against the door.

The door opened to show his dads, half dressed and hair mussed. Ew, it was the middle of the day.

“What’s going on Peter?” pop asked, kneeling down. 

“I do-on’t want to die,” Peter shouted. “I th-thought I di-dd, but I don’t. P-please don’t le-et me die.”

“You’re not going to die,” dad soothed, getting down to their level.

“Bu-ut I _am_ gonna die be-eca-ause I did s-s-something stupid,” he sobbed hysterically.

“What did you do?” pop asked, running his hand across Peter’s back.

Peter shook his head, too humiliated to tell them what he had done. “You’ll ha-ate me.”

“We won’t hate you.”

“I sw-swallowed,” Peter hiccuped. “I swallowed some of da-ad’s anxiety meds a-and then dra-ank a bunch of scotch, a-and—”

“Tony, call 911,” pop instructed, using his Captain America In Battle voice. Dad went off running as pop picked Peter up in his arms. “Peter, you’re gonna be okay,” he soothed. “We’re gonna go to the hospital.”

“No!” Peter shouted. “No, i-it’ll be a-all over the news.”

“I don’t care.”

“I-I do-o! I don’t wa-ant you and da-ad to be embarr-rr-rrassed.”

“Your safety is not an embarrassment to your dad or I. We love you never much—Tony! Did you call an ambulance?” The two sentences were almost one.

“Yeah. They’ll be here soon. We should probably head down to the lobby.”

Pop said something in response and then they were moving again, but Peter’s head was cloudy and his chest hurt and his skin felt like fire, so he decided to close his eyes.

“Peter no!” dad shouted, shaking his shoulders.

“Go ‘way,” the muttered.

“Peter, you need to stay awake,” pop instructed, jarring him.

Peter wasn’t entirely sure if he responded or not, but there were flashing red lights around him, impossibly bright. The sounds of velcro and doors slamming and his dads trying to figure out which of them was going to do something and he just wanted _go to sleep_.

His dad was holding his hand, then, and stroking his face. He was singing something that was vaguely familiar, but Peter couldn’t place it.

He closed his eyes.

—

He awoke to an incessant beeping. His dad was still holding his hand, singing the song. He knew it now. They used to sing it to him when he was little. He was unsure if his dad knew he was awake, so he elected to lie still and let him finish the song.

“… _You make me happy when skies are gray. You’ll never know dear how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away._ ”

“M’not a baby ‘nymore,” Peter mumbled. It was surprisingly hard to get his mouth to work.

“Peter! You’re awake, thank god. Steve, get the nurse in here now.”

“Daddy?” he sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Peter.” Dad ran a hand over his face. It felt nice.

“I’m sorry.”

“ _I’m_ sorry. Your pop and I… we’re so sorry that we didn’t… we love you so much and…” dad seemed incapable of finishing a sentence. “I’ve been off anxiety medication for almost two years,” he managed. “How… how long has this been going on?”

Peter’s head hurt and he’d rather talk about anything else right now, but there was an IV pumping fluid into his body and a heart monitor monitoring his heart. “Thirteen,” he slurred. “Since I was thirteen.”

“Oh, Peter.” Was dad crying? “I’m so sorry.”


End file.
